


how much i meant to you (even back then)

by mnabokov



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Crossdressing, First Time, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 16:27:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15999005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnabokov/pseuds/mnabokov
Summary: High school best friends Sehun and Jongin become roommates at university. Experimentation ensues.





	how much i meant to you (even back then)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Frank Ocean's "Ivy."

Sehun’s wearing a skirt and Jongin can’t stop looking.  
  
It’s all Baekhyun’s fault.  
  
Technically, Sehun isn’t even in theater, so the problem shouldn’t have even existed in the first place. But since Oh Sehun always has and always will be an overachiever, he’s decided to add to his resume by actually applying what he learns in his engineering classes by building sets and helping out with equipment for the drama kids -- something about implementing technical skills and making himself seem well-rounded.  
  
It’s Baekhyun’s fault because Baekhyun -- the true theater major he is -- dragged Sehun into it, and since Jongin has basketball practice right next to their practice room, he waits every Thursday afternoon for Sehun so they can walk back to their shared dorm together.  
  
It’s nice; it’s a routine.  
  
What isn’t routine is Sehun being late one day a few weeks into the new school year; so Jongin has to go into the cramped room where the theater kids plus Sehun go over their sketches and plans or whatever.  
  
Long story short: Sehun’s wearing a skirt. Jongin can’t stop looking.  
  
Baekhyun’s laughing his ass off, knees pulled up to his chest where he’s sitting on a stool; there are others in the room too but Jongin can’t look anywhere else because --  
  
Because: the skirt’s made of this dark, velvety material, like satin over Sehun’s milky legs. Because: Sehun’s exposed skin is pale and smooth and he’s got this faint blush over his cheeks. Because: it should be hilarious, just a bit of horseplay, but Jongin just sort of gets a boner instead.  
  
Jongin clears his throat. Practice today was long and tiring so Jongin’s sweaty already, and he’s glad since that hides his own flush.  
  
Sehun jerks up at the noise and meets Jongin’s gaze. “This isn’t what it looks like,” Sehun blurts out and he shuffles backwards but the room is so small he just bumps into Baekhyun’s chair.  
  
“It’s totally what it looks like,” Baekhyun interjects with a hiccup.  
  
Sehun shakes his head violently. “No,” he insists, “I swear, it’s not like that -- I was just on the ladder to fix the musical set but my jeans -- you know the pair -- ” (Jongin does know the pair: they’re thin and threadbare, probably from Sehun’s high school days) “They caught on a loose nail and they tore but it was a _joke_ \-- I swear -- ”  
  
Sehun’s turning red and he looks like he’s going to continue babbling so Jongin cuts him off: “Yeah,” he says. “So… ”  
  
“So no pants,” Baekhyun interrupts helpfully. “Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all.  
  
Jongin shrugs out of his varsity jacket and promptly hands it over.  
  
“Such a gentleman,” Baekhyun cackles and Jongin ignores him.  
  
“Come on,” Jongin says quietly to Sehun; he thinks that being discreet would probably be the best option at the moment. “Let’s go.”  
  
After throwing one last dirty look at Baekhyun, Sehun jerks on the varsity jacket and grabs Jongin by the arm to drag them out. Their dorm isn’t too far, so the walk only will take a few minutes or so.  
  
“God,” Sehun bites out, cheeks pink. “I fucking hate Baekhyun.” He tugs the jacket tighter around himself; it’s late and the skirt looks more like shorts. Out of some vaguely protective instinct, Jongin walks closer anyway.  
  
“They didn't mean anything,” Jongin replies reflexively.  
  
“Sure,” Sehun looks away, arms crossed and irritation written across his face. To anyone else, he would seem bitchy but Jongin has known Sehun for long enough and knows that it just means he’s hurt.  
  
So Jongin blurts out, “You look good.”  
  
“What.”  
  
And fuck, Jongin can never resist, can he? He couldn’t resist dorming with anyone else besides Sehun in college (fuck the idea of meeting new friends, because freshman year is hard enough); he couldn’t resist the shy curl of Sehun’s lip when he first came to Jongin’s high school sophomore year as the new kid, so he certainly can’t resist blurting out how Sehun looks good in a fucking skirt now.  
  
“I mean,” Jongin flushes but Sehun -- he needs to hear this because as much as his resting bitch face is a turn off and as much as his poker face seems to claim otherwise, Jongin knows that deep down Sehun cares a lot about what other people think of him. “I mean it looks good.”  
  
They reach their dorm. Jongin fumbles with the key.  
  
“Don’t make fun of me,” Sehun says sharply, “Don’t give me that shit, Jongin.”  
  
The door closes behind them.  
  
“I’m serious.” Jongin rubs back of his neck, mouth dry. “Your legs, I mean -- ” He flushes and hopes that that is enough.  
  
Sehun turns away but Jongin catches the corner of a reluctant smile. “Thanks,” Sehun replies, not quite sarcastically.  
  
Jongin smiles back.  
  
Then Sehun smacks on him on the arm. “Go shower,” Sehun wrinkles his nose at Jongin’s sweat-stained gym clothes. “You’re gross.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
(Before:  
  
Summer before freshman year at university. The smell of jasmine flowers in the air. Two plastic cups of bubble tea on a cafe table, and two twin rings of water on the wood, droplets from the condensation.  
  
Sehun has just gotten back from a study abroad trip in Australia. He’s shot up about a solid three inches -- taller than Jongin now, but just barely -- but isn’t all that much tanner than before. He sits a little straighter and talks a little more confidently. But he’s still Jongin’s best friend.  
  
“Did you see the email about roommates?” Sehun asks, mixing up his boba with his straw. He furrows his eyebrows in concentration.  
  
“For university?”  
  
“Uh huh.”  
  
“Nope.” Jongin pops the p with his lips.  
  
“We can either go into the lottery for a random roommate, or pick. If we pick, names are due soon.”  
  
“Oh,” Jongin says. He sips on his bubble tea.  
  
Here’s the thing: from the outside, it may seem as though Jongin’s more outgoing. He’s been playing basketball and dancing and has always been involved in one too many intramural sports at any given time. But it’s an effort that he has to put in. With Sehun, he doesn’t have to be basketball captain or varsity star; he’s just Jongin and he lets Sehun pick up the slack in conversation.  
  
Anyway, then Jongin goes, “Which option are you going with?”  
  
Sehun gives him an odd look. “I’m picking a roommate, of course.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
Sehun nudges him under the table with a gentle kick. “It’s you, idiot.”  
  
Jongin grins. It’s good to know that despite the time they may spend apart, and despite the way their outward appearances may suggest otherwise, their friendship still remains the same at heart.)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“Oh my God, I’m going to die.”  
  
“You’re not going to die.”  
  
“Seriously, Sehun, I’m going to die -- ”  
  
“Will you stop being so dramatic? You’re not even going until tomorrow.”  
  
Jongin flops back onto his bed. Thursday again.  
  
Sehun’s just finished working for theater and Jongin’s just fresh out of the shower from practice.  
  
“What’s her name again?” Sehun asks, rummaging through Jongin’s clothes.  
  
“Who, Mai?”  
  
“Right.” Sehun throws aside a pair of dirty jeans and wrinkles his nose at the remaining articles of clothing. “Remind me again why I’m helping you pick out clothes for your date?”  
  
“Because,” Jongin whines, “I don’t know _anything_.”  
  
Sehun’s upper lip twitches in amusement. “Why are you so nervous anyway? You talked to her last week.”  
  
“But that was for _cheer._ That’s different. This is like -- like real life.”  
  
Sehun impatiently digs through the pile of clothes. “Was last week not real life?”  
  
Jongin rolls over and groans into his pillow.  
  
“God, calm down,” Sehun sounds like he’s rolling his eyes. “It’s just a date. If you’re dreading this one so much, how badly did your last one go?”  
  
Jongin mutters into his pillow.  
  
Sehun goes, “What?”  
  
“I said, I haven’t gone on a date since Krystal.”  
  
A pair of shorts hits Jongin in the head.  
  
“That was junior year of high school!”  
  
Jongin protests, “I was busy! You know that!”  
  
Sehun buries his head in his hands. “You’re so out of it.”  
  
Jongin sits up. “Are you serious?”  
  
“You’re out of practice, Jongin.” Sehun fixes him with a stern look. “You’re already a mess and you still have a week before you even go on your date.”  
  
“Well thanks for the vote of confidence,” Jongin snaps.  
  
“Are you fucking serious? You’re a star player on the basketball team, how hard can it be to talk to cheerleaders?”  
  
“I only talk to them about cheer,” Jongin retorts.  
  
“This is a wreck,” Sehun says dryly. Apparently giving up, he sits back onto the floor.  
  
“Oh my God,” Jongin moans, “It’s not like I can practice going on a date with someone.”  
  
Sehun gives him a look.  
  
Jongin perks up, straightening up. “Hey Sehun.”  
  
“No,” Sehun crosses his arms.  
  
“You didn’t even hear my idea!”  
  
“It’s a terrible idea. This is terrible.”  
  
“Sehun, are we or are we not best friends?”  
  
“You can’t guilt me into this, you know -- ”  
  
“And did I or did I not mail you three boxes of honey butter chips when you were in Australia?”  
  
“This is your own fault. You were the one who said yes even though you _knew_ \-- ”  
  
“ -- you _know_ how much international shipping is?”  
  
“ -- that you were going to be like this -- ”  
  
“ -- I paid that for you, best friend, and now you turn around and _betray_ me -- ”  
  
Sehun bursts out, “Fine! God, _fine_ \-- but will you please just _shut up?”_  
  
Jongin grins.  
  
That stereotype about jocks? Not true. Not one bit. Jongin is a genius.  
  
Sehun looks annoyed when he says, “I’ll help, but don’t think that I’ll put on that skirt.”  
  
Wait, what?  
  
Jongin’s mouth suddenly goes dry. “What?”  
  
“So we can practice.” Sehun narrows his eyes suspiciously. “That is what you want to do, right? Use me as a dummy to practice your nonexistent flirting skills?”  
  
“Hey,” Jongin protests, “I’ll have you know that I’m plenty good at flirting.”  
  
“Oh yeah?” Sehun taunts. And that’s fucking it -- as soon as one of them tosses up a challenge, the other has to accept. That’s the way the world works: the Earth revolves around the sun, the moon revolves around the Earth, and every time Sehun thinks that Jongin can’t do something, Jongin will try his goddamn best to prove him wrong.  
  
“Yeah,” Jongin replies confidently.  
  
“So,” Sehun asks, “Where are you guys going?”  
  
“Off-campus. I was gonna get her dinner or something.”  
  
“So let’s go get dinner.”  
  
“What, now?”  
  
Sehun shrugs. “I don’t see why not. I get free dinner, you get free practice. That’s a bargain to me.”  
  
“Who said I’m buying you dinner?”  
  
“Are you not buying Mai dinner?”  
  
“Of course I am,” Jongin says hotly.  
  
“Hi!” Sehun squeaks out, plastering on this fake smile and pitching his voice high by about two octaves. “I’m Mai! I love cheering and my sorority!”  
  
“Shut up,” Jongin says, face heating. “She’s not like that.”  
  
Sehun snorts. “Let’s go, Kim. Show me what you got.”  
  
They go out for Korean barbecue.  
  
Jongin jokingly holds open the door and pulls out Sehun’s chair but catches a waitress grinning at them so he sits down hastily.  
  
“So what are you studying, Jongin?” Sehun asks, thankfully in a normal voice. He’s flipping through his menu.  
  
Jongin licks his lips. Pretending. Right. “Well, I’m majoring in Health Sciences. What about you?”  
  
“Computer engineering,” Sehun replies.  
  
At Jongin’s look of askance, Sehun breaks character and goes, “What? I don’t know what she’s majoring in.”  
  
“Fine, whatever,” Jongin huffs.  
  
“Computer engineering,” Sehun continues, pretending to be Mai again, even though Jongin’s pretty sure that Mai isn’t majoring in CE. “I’m really interested in networking and system designs.”  
  
“That’s nice,” Jongin says vaguely, skimming over the menu.  
  
Sehun clears his throat. “So what do you like to do for fun?”  
  
“Uh, I play basketball. I mean -- obviously, that’s why -- ” Sehun looks so put out that Jongin forces himself to move on. “I work at the cafe across from the library and I like music. What about you?”  
  
“Oh, you know,” Sehun replies airily, “Staying up to write code, going to the cafe, entertaining my idiot roommate.”  
  
Jongin can’t help his answering grin. “Your roommate?”  
  
“He’s a bit of a jock. Don’t know how he’d live without me,” Sehun confides, grinning.  
  
Jongin kicks him under the table and the waitress comes out with a heaping pile of bulgogi and pork belly. Sehun steals Jongin’s steamed egg and Jongin steals Sehun’s kimchi. Best friends.  
  
They finish and Sehun protests when Jongin pays.  
  
“I was just joking,” Sehun says.  
  
“I wasn’t,” Jongin replies. For a practice date, it’s pretty shit: they stopped the charade less than halfway through and ended up just talking like normal -- about theater drama and the CS100 TA with enormous bags under his eyes and the first game of the season. But for a night out, it’s perfect: relaxed and easygoing with just enough teasing from Sehun.  
  
On their way back to their dorm, they stop by the cafe where Jongin works so Jongin can get Sehun a discounted (employee benefits) coffee since he has an assignment due tomorrow that he hasn’t started. Bumping shoulders and brushing elbows, they walk back to the dorm, chatting amicably before Jongin has to sleep early for practice tomorrow. He falls asleep to the comforting sound of Sehun typing away.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
(Before:  
  
Beginning of sophomore year in high school. Autumn. Desks grating against the linoleum floor, students gossiping. The smell of blackboard chalk and someone’s lunch.  
  
New kid: Oh Sehun. Unstyled hair, cleanly pressed uniform. Quiet-looking.  
  
After an awkward introduction, Sehun bows and takes a seat in the back next to Jongin.  
  
“Hi,” Jongin whispers.  
  
Sehun looks up, expression carefully blank. “Hi,” he murmurs back.  
  
Their teacher starts lecturing and so they don’t get to talk until after class, when Sehun stands up to pack up his things and Jongin knocks amicably into his shoulder.  
  
“Wanna eat lunch with us?” Jongin asks, and the rest is history.  
  
Like Jongin said: best friends.)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
They have their first basketball game of the season.  
  
Yifan, senior and team captain, scores the winning shot and everyone’s hyped with excitement. The entirety of the basketball team piles into his enormous apartment (perks of being an upperclassmen) at the edge of campus.  
  
Jongin had scored twice and feels pretty good: it’s his first real college party and everyone’s putting drinks into his hands and clapping him on the back. “Nice one, Kim,” Yifan says solemnly and Jongin drinks to that. There’re pretty cheerleaders and people guzzling suspiciously colored drinks out of Solo cups; music’s blasting and it doesn’t take long for Jongin to feel the buzz.  
  
“To a kickass season!” Chanyeol booms, clambering up the kitchen countertop -- which doesn’t really seem safe since there’re all kinds of unidentifiable liquids over the surface, so a few others reach up to steady him. “To Yifan and Jongin!”  
  
After enduring another round of manly thumps to his back, Jongin realizes that he’s just drunk enough to enjoy the boisterous atmosphere, but sober enough to realize that they’ll all have fantastic hangovers tomorrow and Yifan’s cleaning bill will be through the roof. But he just grins and downs the rest of his cup.    
  
He’s arguing with Yixing about how they should mix drinks when there’s a commotion at the front door. Not one to miss out on the fun, Jongin pushes through just in time to see Baekhyun and Sehun walking in, the former more or less dragging the latter.  
  
Baekhyun, wearing ribbons with their school colors in his hair and carrying two matching pompoms, looks far too excited for a theater major at a basketball game afterparty; but Chanyeol whoops in delight at the sight of him, so there’s no guessing who invited him.  
  
Sehun’s wearing a university t-shirt that probably belongs to Jongin (since Sehun has no school spirit), which is fine. He looks kind of bored and put out, which is normal. But he’s also wearing this pleated skirt that can’t be anything other than borrowed from a cheerleader. It’s just on this side of too short.  
  
Really, you would think that this would be old by now.  
  
But it’s not.  
  
Really, you would think that Jongin would be used to Baekhyun’s antics by now.  
  
But he isn’t.  
  
Jongin halts in his tracks and someone shoves him forward.  
  
Baekhyun positively _cackles,_ that asshole. “Your prize!” he announces when he spies Jongin. Chanyeol lets out a booming laugh so everyone joins in and then people shove him until Jongin’s sitting on the couch with Sehun dumped in his lap.  
  
“Hi,” Jongin slurs. He still doesn’t really know what’s going on.  
  
“I am never letting you into my dorm again,” Sehun hisses to Baekhyun, but Baekhyun’s already downing the contents of a red Solo cup that Chanyeol handed him.  
  
A few of Jongin’s teammates whistle and catcall.  
  
“Hey,” Jongin mumbles and tries to wave his hand and placate the crowd. But he has a cup of something vaguely alcoholic in one hand and Sehun trying to squirm out of his lap, so he loses balance and nearly tips his cup onto Sehun. Instead he just grabs onto Sehun’s waist, pulling him close so Sehun’s ass lands on Jongin’s crotch.  
  
Not the best idea, because his dick can’t tell the difference between Sehun’s ass and an actual cheerleader’s ass (though to be quite honest, there isn’t that much of a difference; if anything, Sehun’s ass is better). With the alcohol in his system and Sehun wiggling on his groin, Jongin’s starting to feel his blood head south.  
  
“Give the pretty girl a kiss,” someone yells out and they’re laughing. The music’s too loud, pounding in Jongin’s ears and he already feels too tipsy, out of control.  
  
“Are you okay?” Jongin murmurs into Sehun’s ear. Absently, he reaches out to touch the tight line of Sehun’s mouth but Sehun jerks his head away so his fingers only graze against Sehun’s pale jaw.  
  
“Get them to stop,” Sehun says curtly, and yanks out of Jongin’s grip, standing up and stalking into the crowd. The drunken partygoers part ways for him genially and Jongin staggers up to follow, eyes trained on the swish of Sehun’s skirt.  
  
They run into another crowd in the kitchen but Jongin just grabs Sehun’s arm. “Come on, give us some space,” he reasons; the guys move out of the way but not before laughing knowingly and making suggestive comments.  
  
“Sorry,” Jongin slurs, dragging Sehun into the bathroom. He flicks on the lights and closes the door behind them. “They’re assholes.”  
  
Leaning with his back against the counter, Sehun’s skin looks even pale, washed out under the light. A thin sheen of sweat gleams on his throat.  
  
“It’s fine,” Sehun says shortly. He’s looking down at his high tops. He doesn’t say anything else.  
  
Really, it shouldn’t be cute: the skirt’s too short and doesn’t fit quite right around the waist; it’s a weird combination with the t-shirt; Sehun’s knees are knobbly and his high tops are scuffed around the edges. But Sehun’s biting his lip in that way that he does whenever he’s nervous and God, he looks so --  
  
“Are you sure?” Jongin steps closer and his head sways. He feels dizzy with the drunkenness. “I’ll talk to them. I didn’t think they’d -- ”  
  
“No,” Sehun says quickly, “I mean -- ” He looks away.  
  
Jongin’s too tipsy up to read between the lines. He frowns. “Did they force you into this?”  
  
“Not really,” Sehun says and now he’s looking at the ceiling like he’d rather fucking die than be here, his cheeks pink and expression tight. Jongin’s too tipsy, because --  
  
Because: he keeps stealing glances at Sehun’s mouth, swollen from where he’s biting his bottom lip. Because: he’s thinking about how Sehun’s long legs felt pressed up against his own. Because: now he’s looking at how Sehun’s skirt rides up his thighs, and _fuck_ \-- is he wearing underwear?  
  
“So,” Jongin says intelligently.  
  
“So Chanyeol was talking to Baekhyun about it and some of the guys thought it’d be funny, okay?” Sehun snaps. His blush is spreading down his neck now. “Luhan put one on too. I didn’t think we were going to -- to _parade_ ourselves at the party. Besides, do I need to remind you of what you get up to when you're drunk?” _  
_ _  
_ “No,” Jongin drags out the vowel, “I mean, no, don't remind me and no, I don't think it’s -- ” Jongin struggles to find words, “It’s not like, I don’t know -- I just, I just never _knew_ \-- ” Jongin doesn't finish but the words stretch out between them: _that you were into this, that you could be --_ _  
_ _  
_ “Hey,” someone bangs on the door, “Open up, I gotta piss.”  
  
Jongin’s about to reply rudely but he realizes that he forgot to lock the door and then the bathroom door swings open: it’s one of the upperclassmen and he leers at Sehun.  
  
“Fuck off,” Jongin steps in between them and snaps at the guy, effectively putting Sehun out of the line of sight.  
  
“Oh, Kim.” The guy blinks in recognition. “You’re just who I was looking for. They want you out front.”  
  
The guy looks like he’s about to say something else but Sehun grabs him by the wrist and drags them both out into the disarray again.  
  
“What?”  
  
“It’s your party,” Sehun says loudly to make himself heard over the din. “You shouldn’t be hiding in the bathroom -- ”  
  
“Hey, you’re back!” Chanyeol grins.  
  
Someone shoves Sehun into Jongin and while Jongin fully knows that Sehun’s perfectly capable of a nasty uppercut, he would prefer to not end the night in a fistfight. So he slings an arm around Sehun’s waist and tugs him close, squeezing reassuringly.  
  
There’s some hooting and some laughter; so Jongin ignores them all and sits back down in an empty chair, pulling Sehun down with him so no one else can shove and so the guys will shut up.  
  
“Sehun?” Zitao, the CS100 TA with, quite frankly, a very impressive set of eyebags, pops up with two drinks in hand. “Hey, I didn’t think you’d make it!”  
  
“Of course,” Chanyeol chortles and Baekhyun shoves another drink into Jongin’s face.  
  
Jongin ignores all of them and nuzzles Sehun’s neck with his nose. Sehun’s so warm and so soft. “We should go,” Jongin says, although he’s enjoying himself. Sehun’s fidgeting uncomfortably and Jongin doesn’t want Sehun to not enjoy the party.  
  
“You’re leaving?” Baekhyun leans in.  
  
“You’re leaving?” Yifan echoes, somewhere from behind Jongin.  
  
“I can walk you back,” Zitao offers to Sehun.  
  
Sehun ignores them all as well. “It’s your celebration,” he twists around to look at Jongin.  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
Sehun rolls his eyes. Jongin shifts a bit so Sehun hopefully won’t be able to feel his cock twitching. “I can deal with a bunch of drunk jocks. I live with you, remember?”  
  
“Hey,” Chanyeol protests, defensively, but Jongin’s too busy grinning to care.  
  
“Stay,” Sehun says, turning back to face Zitao, who sparks up a conversation about their professor or something. Jongin tightens his arm around Sehun’s waist and accepts a drink from Baekhyun.  
  
Yifan ropes him into a discussion about practice; Jongin cranes his neck around Sehun to look up at the basketball captain since Sehun’s now engrossed in conversation with Zitao. It’s nice for a while: Sehun’s weight is heavy but comforting, sitting still now so that Jongin’s hard-on mostly subsides; Baekhyun keeps piling drinks into all of their hands; and Yixing’s ranting about DJs and more alcohol.  
  
But then Chanyeol stumbles out of the kitchen, drops of tequila still clinging to his chin. He comes to an ungainly halt in front of Jongin and Sehun, shoving his face in front of them and asking: “Are you going to kiss?”  
  
Sehun pushes Chanyeol away without even looking away from his conversation, but Chanyeol’s like an overgrown puppy, his enormous eyes, looking from Jongin to Sehun and back to Jongin again. “But you dressed up so nicely for Jongin,” Chanyeol pleads to Sehun, pouting and generally being an infant.  
  
Jongin flicks Chanyeol in the forehead but Chanyeol just whines and mopes; that’s the way that he gets when he’s _really_ wasted, fixating on something and not letting go. Everyone in the room knows this so there’s some jeering and urging. “Come on, give him a kiss!”  
  
“God, do you guys ever shut up?” Sehun mumbles.  
  
But then Baekhyun then intrudes in, a cup sloshing in his hand. “Give the pretty cheerleader a kiss,” he catcalls, red-faced and grinning. “I know -- ”  
  
Sehun promptly smacks Baekhyun on the arm and Baekhyun pouts. Jongin is not sober enough to understand so he just frowns. “Be nice to Baekhyun,” Jongin says.  
  
“Yeah,” Baekhyun agrees.  
  
Sehun rolls his eyes. He jerks forward and pecks his mouth against Jongin’s cheek, feather-light and rabbit-quick. “There.”  
  
Music pounds in the background. People are chatting, sweet-talking, flirting in the background. The dark lights are sultry. It feels like a party. It smells like a party.  
  
“Are you fucking kidding,” Baekhyun slurs, “Give him a real kiss, a nice wet -- ”  
  
Someone jolts Chanyeol from behind and he stumbles forward, lurching into Baekhyun, who cackles, making kissy faces at Sehun and Jongin.  
  
And then Yixing ducks into the conversation to ask, “You’re going to kiss?” as if he’s fucking five years old; and then Zitao turns around, and the girl from Jongin’s history class and the people around them --  
  
And Sehun turns to give Jongin a look, half exasperated, half amused. Jongin grins at him, pulling up his shoulders in sort of a helpless shrug, like _what can we do?_  
  
Then Sehun’s leaning into Jongin, swaying in time with the music, and --  
  
The soft curve of Sehun’s bottom lip, plump and sweet like a ripe apricot; the rapid  _thump thump thump_ of his pulse where Jongin’s thumb presses firmly against the thin skin of Sehun’s wrist; and God, Jongin needs more -- two addictions in one: the shape of a mouth against his, the distinctive taste of alcohol, heady and drunk and slow.  
  
Jongin’s stupid drunk with the beer and liquor and whatever the fuck Yixing concocted in the kitchen, sloshing around in this potent cocktail in his stomach; he’s dumb drunk and he just _wants_ \--  
  
Instinctively he lurches up, hips bucking into the Sehun’s ass, their noses bumping unromantically; but then Jongin’s hand slips and it slides up the fleecy material of the skirt, onto even softer skin.  
  
Someone whoops and Jongin thinks he sees the flash of a camera but all his alcohol-addled brain (or probably, more accurately, his dick) thinks is: more more more.  
  
So then Jongin licks his way into the pocket of Sehun’s small mouth, uncaring of who may be watching or the repercussions of this, a little too rough and much too clumsy, right hand spanning across Sehun’s inner thigh, the tips of his fingers brushing against that crease between thigh and hipbone, and yeah, Sehun’s definitely not wearing underwear.  
  
There’s this small whimper that Sehun makes when Jongin kisses him filthy. Sehun's hand comes up to clutch at Jongin’s shoulder, pushing their mouths apart, holding their bodies at an arm’s distance.  
  
“Wow,” Chanyeol breathes out.  
  
Sehun wipes his mouth. “Do you have any more beer?”  
  
Baekhyun all but scrambles away to grab him more. With delicate grace, Sehun stands up and heads into the kitchen, leaving cool air rushing in in his place. Jongin discreetly adjusts his pants and watches his skirt sway as he goes.  
  
The rest of the night passes in a blur.  
  
By the time Sehun reemerges with a fresh beer, he’s changed into a spare pair of basketball shorts -- no doubt stolen from Yifan -- and Jongin’s crowing repeatedly, “Did you see my layup today? Did you?”  
  
“It was great,” Zitao nods politely. Jongin loves Zitao. “Oh hey -- you’re heading out already?”  
  
Jongin looks up to see who he’s talking to. “Sehun!” Jongin says. Jongin loves Sehun even more.  
  
“Hi, Jongin,” Sehun says, looking somewhere else. He pats Jongin’s head.  
  
“Where’d your skirt go?” Baekhyun pipes up.  
  
“Into the trash,” Sehun deadpans, and his poker face is so good Jongin can’t even tell if he’s joking or not. To Jongin he asks, “Ready to head home?”  
  
Jongin lurches upright and immediately has to keep himself from puking all over Sehun’s worn shoes.  
  
“Yeah,” Sehun makes a face. “We’re going home.”  
  
They say thank you to Yifan -- or really, Sehun says thank you and Jongin just doesn’t pass out -- who congratulates Jongin again, before they head back out, walking a few minutes across campus back to their own dorm. That Jongin doesn’t trip and crack his skull on the pavement is a miracle, but probably has to do with the fact that Sehun’s all but carrying him back. All he remembers next is bumping his head while clambering into his bed, and muttering something about skirts and shooting hoops before he passes the fuck out.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
(Before:  
  
A week before the end of senior year. Two weeks before graduation. Stress -- cramming for finals. Exam season. Jongin and Sehun in the library, meant to be studying. Not studying.  
  
“I can’t believe you’re going away,” Jongin whispers across his math textbook.  
  
Sehun glares at him. “I’m not going away,” he whispers back. “I’m coming back.”  
  
“To come back, you have to go away,” Jongin replies petulantly.  
  
“It’s only for three months.”  
  
“It’s in another _hemisphere.”_ _  
_ _  
_ “It’s in Australia.”  
  
Jongin repeats emphatically, “Another hemisphere.”  
  
Someone shushes them from across the table.  
  
Cowed, for a few seconds they drop their gazes back down to their open textbooks.  
  
Then Jongin confesses, “Okay, so it isn’t that long. But what if you come back and you’re a different person?”  
  
“We’re never the same people,” Sehun reasons. “We learn and change every day. But I’m not leaving you.” He says simply, “You’re my best friend.”)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
His justification is that he has this Pavlovian response to cheerleading skirts; as soon as he gets his hand up one, doesn’t matter who’s actually wearing it, he gets an automatic boner.  
  
That’s what Jongin tells himself when he wakes up the next day and the events of the afterparty come flooding back.  
  
(That’s kind of a lie. A little one, anyway. There was this one time Sehun slept over a few days before graduation and Jongin woke to the sight of him stretched out on the sleeping bag stretched out by Jongin’s desk; Sehun’s shorts had ridden up his thighs and his mouth was slack. And here was that other time when they were wrestling during PE -- anyway.)  
  
Jongin groans and rolls into his pillow.  
  
“Are you dead yet?” Sehun asks from somewhere across their shared room.  
  
“You wish,” Jongin mumbles. “Then you’d get the room to yourself.”  
  
“Plot twist: I actually stayed at the party so you’d get alcohol poisoning and I’d get your bed.”  
  
Jongin moans loudly. His head throbs in his skull and his tongue feels fat.  
  
“Sehun,” he gripes, “God, I was so drunk.”  
  
With far too much schadenfreude, Sehun grins. “I know.”  
  
“I’m so hungover.”  
  
Sehun’s grin widens. “I know.”  
  
Ibuprofen and water is gulped down by Jongin before they head out, but the merciless sun still beats down bright daggers of light into Jongin’s eyeballs when Sehun drags them out to the field to watch Luhan play soccer.  
  
It’s not like Jongin doesn’t like Luhan; actually, he really likes Luhan and admires his soccer prowess, but it’s too early and he’s too hungover so Jongin just buries his head in Sehun’s shoulder miserably and Sehun grins throughout practice. Minseok gives them a few odd looks but Jongin’s too sad to care.  
  
Afterwards, Luhan takes all of them out for bingsoo, and the fresh mango and syrup is so good, Jongin doesn’t even remember to complain. Then they go back to the dorm and watch a movie, just the two of them, sprawled out on the carpet, elbows propping themselves up. They don’t mention the party again.  
  
Then a few days after that, Jongin takes Mai out for Korean barbecue. It’s -- nice. Mai is perfectly polite: doesn’t steal Jongin’s steamed egg and doesn’t kick him under the table; talks a lot about her degree as a biochem major and seems interested enough in basketball. Jongin pays for her and they make vague plans to see each other again sometime.  
  
The rest of the week passes by pretty quickly, until that Friday he’s assigned a monstrous pile of work in Math 250, and Jongin understands pretty much nothing about it.  
  
He spends the entirety of Friday evening and most of Saturday reading the textbook and his notes, over and over again, until Sehun finally notices him frowning at his work and pads over Saturday afternoon.  
  
“What are you doing?” Sehun asks, poking his head over Jongin’s shoulder.  
  
“I’m not doing anything,” Jongin replies absently. “I don’t even know where to start.”  
  
“Here,” Sehun says. He leans in close, picking up the pencil and circling something in Jongin’s notes. “If you look… ”  
  
Two hours later, Jongin’s homework is completed.  
  
“You’re a lifesaver,” Jongin tells Sehun genuinely.  
  
Sehun huffs. “I can’t believe I got anything into that thick skull of yours.”  
  
“I’m serious,” Jongin says earnestly. “Let’s go out -- my treat.” He knows that Sehun won’t be able to resist.  
  
So they throw on some clothes and head to the night market a short distance away from campus. The sun’s starting to set and the vendors are waving their goods enticingly: roasted chestnuts and chicken skewers and fish cakes. Jongin buys Sehun the skewered rice cakes that he likes and gets a bag of roasted chestnuts for himself.  
  
It’s like they’re relearning each other.  
  
It’s only been a few weeks that Sehun’s been back in Korea, back with Jongin, and those weeks were eaten up by freshman orientation, by moving in and unpacking and dealing with new classes and a new campus. So now that everything’s settling in, it’s like Jongin has time to familiarize himself with Sehun again: his friend who left and came back, who’s the same but not quite.  
  
Anyway, they walk around the market, wandering from street to street, observing vendors and asking for prices as if they’d buy anything else (they won’t). It’s kind of weird too, that they dorm together, but neither of them wants to go back, wants the night to end. It’s kind of weird because they already see so much of each other but it’s like meeting each other anew -- they won’t ever be those kids again, those kids from high school.  
  
(Back then they thought they were stressed with cram school and testing and applications, but now it’s worse because it’s _real life;_ like they’re on the precipice of something undeniably there, but unfathomable, so strange and unfamiliar and daunting. Fuck, Jongin’s just glad that Sehun’s here with him.)  
  
They end up talking about family. Jongin learns that Sehun’s older sister is dating this jerk, some guy a few years older than her but doesn’t have his life together yet.  
  
“But he could be nice,” Jongin argues. “She could really like him.”  
  
Sehun makes a contemplative noise. He chews a bite of rice cake thoughtfully before swallowing, then speaking. “It’s like a computer,” he begins. “There are layers to a computer.”  
  
Jongin rolls a warm chestnut in the cup of his palm. He says, “Please don’t.”  
  
Unsurprisingly, Sehun ignores him. “The base layer is the physical layer, wires and cords and all that. Then you get into computer languages and the way machines communicate, all the way up this model. Each layer is built on top of the other. It’s the same with relationships.”  
  
Jongin goes, “People aren't computers, you know.” They turn a corner and Jongin tosses his chestnut into his mouth.  
  
“When you meet someone, you have to go through those layers,” Sehun insists. “Yeah, that person has to be compatible with you, and yeah that’s the foundation, but you need context. You introduce them to your friends. And if your friends like them, then you introduce them into your family.”  
  
“I don't agree,” Jongin says but hands Sehun a chestnut when he holds out his hand for one. “I don’t think you’re wrong but I don’t think you should think of love like that.”  
  
Sehun snorts. “Is love what we’re talking about?”  
  
“You make it sound so -- so clinical. Like you're following steps or some shit. It’s not like that, Sehun. It’s natural and it’s… organic.”  
  
“Cage free and grass fed?”  
  
Jongin punches him lightly on the arm. “You know what I mean.”  
  
“I think you’re being too much of a romantic. It’s more about compatibility than anything else.” A throng of people comes towards them and they squeeze together to avoid being separated. “But I guess I don’t know anything either.” He grins wryly. “I’ll let you work things out with Mai, and then you can preach to me.”  
  
Right. Mai.  
  
“Let’s go see Jongdae,” Jongin changes the subject. “I think he’s working tonight.”  
  
They don't talk about Mai again, but they do visit the ice cream shop where Jongdae works, then they walk, biding their time, talking about video games or classes or music or something -- Jongin doesn't remember, just remember the feel of Sehun’s shoulders brushing against his.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
(Before:  
  
It doesn’t matter when it is. Some time before university. Some time before Australia.  
  
Sehun’s laughter ringing in the air. Jongin smiling. At the park for Sehun’s sister’s birthday. The taste of vanilla and lemonade. They’re chasing each other across grass, tripping and stumbling into each other, Jongin’s open mouth, still laughing, against Sehun’s ribcage, and Sehun’s fingers in Jongin’s hair. They’re acting like children instead of the high schoolers they are, but they’re far enough away from the rest of the party that nobody is there to bear witness besides the sun and the wind.  
  
Another time:  
  
On the bus ride back from a day trip to a history museum. Night. Darkness. The seats of the bus rumbling underneath them as the tires pound at the asphalt, eating up the miles. Drowsiness. Sehun’s fallen asleep on Jongin’s shoulder and Jongin’s close to following: his eyes are heavy and the traffic lights are starting to blur together. Sehun has the left earbud and Jongin has the right. He glances down at his iPod. Pauses the song. Lets his eyes shut as he falls asleep to the sound of Sehun breathing.  
  
Yet another time:  
  
A week after final exams of senior year. Three days before Sehun leaves for Australia. Curled up on Jongin’s couch, the TV playing on mute, bleeding white colors into the room. The smell of curry rice on the stove as the leftovers are heating up. Sehun’s arm looped casually around Jongin’s shoulders; Jongin’s fingers tracing meaningless patterns onto Sehun’s bare, bony ankle. _I’ll miss you,_ he doesn’t say. He knows that Sehun hears it anyway.  
  
Before, but a little after:  
  
After Australia. Sehun hugs him tightly at the airport, sits next to him during the car ride back. But when they’re moving, Sehun’s more careful with his touch. Doesn’t lean into Jongin as steeply, doesn’t run his fingers through Jongin’s hair as often.  
  
The point is this:  
  
There is a difference, in the before and after. Starting the summer after Australia, Sehun is less touchy. Not just with Jongin, but with the others, too. He’s more deliberate in his motions, and more confident in his actions. It’s just -- different. Jongin doesn’t know if he likes it or not.)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
They work hard. Like, pretty damn hard.  
  
Jongin prides himself on the hours he clocks in at the gym and on the court; he knows that Sehun has a pair of prescription glasses tucked in his backpack for all the late nights he spends at his laptop, coding in the dark. It took them time and effort to get here, to get their respective scholarship here; it’s been their focus for -- well, forever.  
  
And now they’re here, the finish line (or probably, it should more aptly be considered the starting line) is in sight and there’s little time to fuck around.  
  
The whole point of this is that Jongin may be mostly a virgin, but at least he’s got his grit. Lacking in one department, but making it up in another, right? And he knows that Sehun’s in the same boat as him, so he doesn’t feel all too bad about it.  
  
But --  
  
“Mai just texted me,” Jongin says, slamming the door to their dorm open. He’s panting, sweat still dripping from his hair, having run from practice.  
  
Sehun looks up from his computer. “Okay,” he says slowly. “And?”  
  
“And she invited me over to the apartment she’s sharing with her friend tomorrow. To watch a movie. But her friend’s not home because last week recitation got cancelled so she’s going in for private tutoring this week and -- ”  
  
“Woah,” Sehun says, holding up his hands. “First of all, quit freaking out.”  
  
Jongin dumps his basketball gear onto the floor. He grimaces. “Sorry.”  
  
“What’s the problem?” Sehun frowns.  
  
Jongin sits on the floor. He looks away.  
  
“Oh,” Sehun says. “Well.” He scratches his head.  
  
Jongin taps his knee in a speedy rhythm.  
  
“Calm down,” Sehun says. “You’re making me anxious and fucking up my essay.”  
  
“I didn’t say anything,” Jongin protests. “Plus, you’re an engineering major. You don’t need to pass history.”  
  
Sehun gives him a withering look. “Just -- calm down. You have until tomorrow to -- ”  
  
“To what, practice on you?” Jongin bites out, and he doesn’t meant it to be, but it comes out sharp.  
  
Sehun blanches and his face pinches. “If you didn't -- ”  
  
“No,” Jongin says immediately. “It’s not like -- like _that,_ it’s just -- you’re,” he gestures vaguely. _Male; best friend but better; not worth this, whatever this will cause us,_ Jongin thinks.  
  
“I can wear the skirt,” Sehun blurts out abruptly. “If that makes you feel better. I know you don’t like -- ” Sehun blushes.  
  
What the _fuck._ _  
_ _  
_ “What the fuck,” Jongin says.  
  
“Forget it,” Sehun turns away quickly but Jongin still thinks he sees Sehun’s eyes bright with embarrassment, or humiliation or something; Sehun turns away and types at his keyboard. His ears are red. Jongin doesn’t know what to say. “Please forget that I said anything,” Sehun says tightly, wetly. “God, Jongin, just -- ”  
  
“Would you really?” Jongin rasps.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Would you really wear the skirt?”  
  
Sehun looks at Jongin, confused. “I don’t -- what are you trying to say?”  
  
Jongin licks his lips. This is -- this is straight up terrifying and Jongin can’t ignore the strange, ugly twisting, the shameful churning in his belly. He hears himself say, “Will you wear it or not?”  
  
Sehun’s expression twists, unreadable to Jongin. He slips out to the bathroom. When Sehun comes back, Jongin’s sitting at his desk, tapping out a nervous pattern with the flat of his thumb.  
  
The skirt’s the same one as the one from last week.  
  
Here are some more things that are the same as last week: the fact that Jongin has never had the thought of dating another guy -- except now that he’s thought about not thinking about it, does it mean that he’s thought about it?; the fact that Sehun is undoubtedly a guy; the faintest hint of blush on Sehun’s cheeks; the way the material of the skirt curls loosely around his pale thighs like water; the fact that Sehun and Jongin always have been, always will be, best friends.  
  
That stereotype about jocks? Absolutely true. One-hundred percent true. Jongin is an idiot.  
  
“Um,” he says dumbly.  
  
Sehun sits on the bed, legs moderately spread in the way he always does, except right now he’s wearing a fucking skirt under his cheesy shirt that says _Life Would Be So Much Easier If I Had the Source Code,_ so Jongin looks away.  
  
Jongin rises and draws the curtain tight. Locks the door. Turns back around and Sehun’s standing up, wringing his hands. His skirt is black, dark against Sehun’s milk-white legs. It comes to a stop around mid-thigh.  
  
“Don’t make this weird,” Sehun breathes out.  
  
“Okay,” Jongin croaks. He blinks. He doesn’t know where to look.  
  
“So pretend I’m her,” Sehun says. His voice sounds small.  
  
Jongin swallows and steps closer.  
  
It feels like Jongin’s known Sehun for forever and for no time at all. His eyes are dark and his expression is closed, but Sehun’s chin is tilted up, challengingly, daringly, and Jongin wants so badly, he has to clench his hands into fists to stop himself from reaching out.  
  
“Can I touch you?” Jongin asks.  
  
Sehun jerks his head in a quick nod.  
  
Jongin steals one last glance at Sehun’s face before turning his gaze towards where the shadow of Sehun’s skirt hangs.  
  
Sehun had asked Jongin to pretend but there’s no way Jongin can pretend: Sehun’s knees are too knobbly and his hips slightly too wide to be a girl’s; but more than that, Jongin can recognize the little mole above his wrist and the distinct shape of his hipbone underneath his thin shirt. He brushes three fingers against Sehun’s thigh, right under the hem of his skirt, feeling the smooth skin there. It isn’t quite hairless, but the hair’s thin and sparse.  
  
With his other hand, Jongin reaches down and cups a hand around Sehun’s waist. It fits into his palm, feels right and solid in his hand. Sehun sways forward slightly, and Jongin grazes five fingers against Sehun’s leg, sweeping his hand up, lightly, barely skimming the skin, up up up until Jongin’s wrist rucks up the skirt, revealing the perfect skin of Sehun’s upper thigh.  
  
Sehun’s breath hitches almost imperceptibly, but Jongin’s so close he can hear it. Immediately he freezes; the flowy material of Sehun’s skirt pools around Jongin’s right wrist.  
  
“Keep going,” Sehun says. When Jongin looks at him, Sehun’s eyes are squeezed shut.  
  
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Jongin confesses hoarsely.  
  
“Um,” Sehun says.  
  
“You’re supposed to help me,” Jongin says, only half asking.  
  
Sehun cracks open an eye. “Really?” he says. “This was just supposed to be practice.”  
  
Jongin blanches and removes his hand from where it’s halted halfway up Sehun’s skirt. His left hand grips Sehun’s waist tighter. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” Jongin says.  
  
(And he’s not really lying: the last time his hand was wandering up an article of clothing was at Taemin’s going-away party during the summer when a girl from the high school hip-hop team had drunkenly grabbed his hand and put it on her bra; then she’d thrown up after they made out, and that was the closest he’d ever gotten to sex.)  
  
Sehun looks confused. “And you think I do? The last time I got any action was that houseparty two years ago when I spilled fruit punch on your new shoes.”  
  
Jongin tries not to look shocked. “When you made out Sunyoung for twenty seconds?”  
  
“It was like a minute,” Sehun protests. He starts inching backwards but Jongin’s grip on his waist keeps him close.  
  
“It doesn’t matter,” Jongin mutters, his gaze dropping to Sehun’s pink mouth. Before Sehun can start about how it does, actually, matter, Jongin swallows his pride and asks: “Can I still kiss you?”  
  
“For practice,” Sehun clarifies, but he’s already leaning closer and Jongin murmurs, “Yeah,” before coming close and pressing their mouths together.  
  
It’s so much better when Jongin’s sober.  
  
He can feel every sharp intake when Sehun reacts to a flick of Jongin’s tongue or the teasing press of his teeth; can better appreciate the way Sehun lets out these tiny, delicious little sounds: like choked whimpers and soft groans, like he’s trying to hold himself back.  
  
Sehun tastes faintly of coffee and of the leftover kimchi fried rice they had in the refrigerator, tastes hot and familiar and _good_ \--  
  
Jongin lurches closer and then Sehun runs eight fingernails down the nape of Jongin’s neck, sending a tingle down Jongin’s skin. Planting two hands on Sehun’s hips, Jongin scrapes his teeth across Sehun’s bottom lip. Sehun shivers and that turns Jongin on more than when he was making out with that girl from hip-hop club last summer, more than when Mai had smiled and tossed her hair over her shoulder at Korean barbecue. They’ve been kissing for less than a minute but Jongin can already feel his cock twitching in his underwear.  
  
Trailing his wet lips over Sehun’s chin and jaw, Jongin latches onto a soft spot right above Sehun’s Adam’s apple, where the skin is supple and tastes of salt. Sehun tilts his head back so Jongin can have better access, and Jongin just roves his tongue back and forth reverently, lavishing the sweet skin there.  
  
Sehun moans, louder than before.  
  
“Yeah,” Jongin murmurs, eyes half-lidded. He mouths at the base of Sehun’s neck, where his throat meets his chest.  
  
Jongin moves his mouth to press against Sehun’s jawline when someone knocks on the door.  
  
Sehun pushes Jongin off quickly, making an abortive noise and widening his eyes frantically when Chanyeol goes, “Jongin, I know you’re in there. The guy across the hall said he saw you going in so open up.” Chanyeol continues knocking and Sehun shoves Jongin in the general direction of the door.  
  
A quick glance downwards confirms that there’s nothing visible so Jongin shuffles forward, wincing when his erection shifts in his underwear.  
  
Jongin opens the door just a bit, enough so that Jongin can see out but not so that Chanyeol can see in. “What?”  
  
“Hey man, I just wanted to see -- ” Chanyeol stops and looks at Jongin funny.  
  
Jongin flushes. “What?”  
  
Slowly, Chanyeol goes, “Am I interrupting?”  
  
Jongin hesitates but there must be something off because Chanyeol mumbles something and slinks off.  
  
Jongin frowns to himself but shuts the door.  
  
“You should get ready to go soon anyway,” Sehun says. “You have practice soon.”  
  
Jongin tries not to look at the bulge in Sehun’s skirt. “Right,” he rolls the word in his mouth.  
  
Sehun looks embarrassed and shifty, like he wants to leave. Jongin reaches out and touches his wrist as gently as he can. “Thanks,” Jongin says.  
  
Smiling stiffly, Sehun goes, “See how it goes with Mai first before you thank me.”  
  
  
  
  
It doesn’t go well with Mai, but probably not in the way Sehun’s expecting.  
  
Jongin drags himself to Mai’s apartment the next day and rings the doorbell. She’s piled her hair onto her head and is wearing sweatpants when she opens the door. “Hi,” she says.  
  
“Hi,” he says.  
  
They sit at the kitchen countertop for a minute or two chatting. Before Mai can bring up anything about a movie, her roommate comes back from a tutoring session that finished early. The roommate is nice enough; the three of them end up chatting over a bowl of pretzels about the basketball game, and Jongin laughs so hard at how Mai and her roommate roast his teammates that he forgets that this is supposed to be a date. The roommate goes to sleep an hour or so later and then Jongin must look really out of it because Mai gives him this pitiful look and shoos him away under the pretense of having homework. So.  
  
Out of guilt he texts her the next day, and they get discounted coffee at the campus cafe. “So I was thinking,” she starts, and her tone is gratingly familiar so Jongin just bears through it all, but at least they walk away with a better understanding of where they stand: just friends.  
  
To take his mind off of things, he agrees to go with Baekhyun and Sehun and the rest of the drama kids to the beach. They take a day trip out, getting onto the bus early in the morning and arriving just as the day warms up.  
  
“Kim Jongin?” Do Kyungsoo says, cornering Jongin when they start unpacking and setting up tents. “Like, the basketball player?”  
  
“Yeah,” Jongin squares his shoulders.  
  
Kyungsoo eyes him for a second more, then shrugs. Yeah, so it isn’t a typical basketball crowd -- and Jongin only knows a handful of the other people here -- but Sehun’s his best friend.  
  
Anyway, it’s a chill beach party: people are milling around in shorts and swimsuits, talking and sipping on the cold beers they lugged down in a cooler. Junmyeon, aspiring actor and student head of the drama department, brings out two ukuleles so he can strum out a few songs with Jongdae.  
  
It’s pretty much the opposite of a house party that the basketball team would love: it’s slow, and chill; someone brings a speaker and they all sing along, sitting cross-legged on the sand and swaying like palm trees in the breeze.  
  
Around lunch time, they bring out a grill and the smell of barbecue wafts into the air. Sehun chases Jongin into the ocean and they emerge with their hair sopping wet, dripping ocean water all over the sand before plopping down to enjoy chicken skewers.  
  
And in the evening, as it becomes too cold to swim, they start a bonfire. Jongin shares a blanket with Sehun, as usual, their flanks pressed up against each other as they look into the dancing flames. Vaguely, Jongin knows that this is more complicated than it may seem, because he keeps leaning into Sehun despite the fact that they’re closer than anyone else sharing towels.  
  
  
  
Homework starts to pile on as the school year progresses. It’s hard for Jongin to think about -- about _this,_ whatever he and Sehun have -- what with all of the studying, coffee runs, and juggling of extracurriculars and part-time jobs. But Jongin knows something’s really wrong when he goes to a basketball party a few weeks later.  
  
He’s standing in the kitchen, drink in hand, talking to a cheerleader who keeps smiling at him and sipping from her cup. She steps closer during their conversation but Jongin doesn’t even notice until she puts a hand on his arm, brushing her leg against his knee and tilting her head just so.  
  
Then Chanyeol comes in with a heft beer keg hoisted over his head, hollering about more alcohol, and Jongin takes the opportunity to slip away. Two months ago, Jongin would’ve eagerly taken the girl upstairs, but he just -- isn’t feeling it.  
  
He throws himself back into his work.  
  
Sehun helps him more often than not, remembering to bring iced coffee on Wednesdays back to the dorm after Jongin’s head starts to swim after Math 250 and setting timers so they can try the Pomodoro Technique.  
  
One time, Sehun goes out with his theater friends and comes back around 3AM absolutely smashed. Baekhyun drops off Sehun with a cheery wave and a slurred farewell, so Jongin’s left to carefully feed Sehun the rest of a bottle of water -- to keep him hydrated. Sehun’s mumbling about packets (probably not the paper kind) and routers and modems, so Jongin helps him into a comfy pair of sweatpants. The next morning, Jongin gives him some Advil and kisses him on the cheek.  
  
Another time, Jongin comes back to the dorm room after a brutal lecture on human physiology and finds Sehun splayed out on the carpet, mumbling to his computer. He’s surrounded by not one, not two, but six empty cups of Jin ramen and a bottle of Calpico. The prime food stuff of coders, Jongin’s sure, but the inner health major in him has Jongin clucking. So Jongin forcibly picks up Sehun and drags him to the dining hall. Sehun’s still rambling on about code and so Jongin listens through it all, until he’s put away two bowls of soup. Best friend duties, that’s all.

  
  
  
But to really ward off the onslaught of sleep deprivation and over-caffeination and string concatenation and methods of direct characterization (the last two for Sehun’s CS classes and Jongin’s literature course, respectively), they decide to get a couch.  
  
They get it through Minseok’s friend’s ex-roommate’s old neighbor’s cousin. Or something like that. The point is, now they don’t have to climb into bunks to laze around. So it isn’t surprising for Jongin to come back from practice one day and see Sehun splayed out watching a poorly dubbed version of the Star Trek TV show.  
  
“Why are you watching trash,” Jongin says conversationally. Sehun’s so used to Jongin that he barely glances up; instead, he just snorts and scoots over so Jongin can sit down.  
  
It’s a Tuesday night, slow and chill. Jongin messes around on his phone, scrolling through Instagram. It feels normal to lean over and rest his weight on Sehun’s shoulders, like he’s done a million times before.  
  
But then --  
  
Sehun -- he sort of tenses. Which is -- they’ve never had that tension between them before so Jongin freezes automatically. “Is that -- ” he starts to pull back.  
  
“No,” Sehun says hastily, scooting back, “It's fine.” But in his haste to show that nothing's wrong, Sehun jerks too hard and then his shoulder collides with Jongin's ribcage. So Jongin has to reach out and steady him and the whole thing's rather embarrassing. Sehun's cheeks flush.  
  
Jongin clears his throat and tries to refocus on Captain Kirk and the space aliens. But he suddenly becomes acutely aware of Sehun next to him, the shape of his body molding the couch, the heat of his skin.  
  
“Hey,” he starts awkwardly, not really knowing what to say but wanting to say something to break the silence. “Can I -- ”  
  
Sehun turns to look at him but they're too close and Jongin suddenly has to pull back. “Woah,” Jongin says.  
  
“I mean,” Sehun flushes. “Only if… ”  
  
Jongin blinks. He's confused for about another three seconds. Then Sehun's gaze slides to Jongin's mouth and then everything makes sense. “Oh,” Jongin says.  
  
“Do you -- ” Sehun pulls back a bit. He looks shy and embarrassed. “Do you want -- ”  
  
“Yeah,” Jongin says much too fast, “Yeah, but it’s not -- ”  
  
“Yeah,” Sehun says and then he leans in.  
  
Here are some fun facts: they haven’t been drinking; they are 100%, absolutely sober; this is terrifying; this is fantastic.  
  
Sehun’s mouth is soft and warm and wet, a little hesitant at first, but Jongin’s body remembers and they fall right back to where they were that night at the party: Jongin leans forward and settles against Sehun’s chest, Sehun’s mouth open in invitation.  
  
Sehun makes this perfect little noise and Jongin chases it greedily, his hands coming up to clutch at Sehun’s narrow waist. He’s being forward, too forward -- he forces himself to pull away for breath.  
  
Sehun’s eyelashes are dark against his cheeks. “Jongin,” Sehun says. His voice is breathy. His eyes are half-lidded. There’s something off about his tone but Jongin’s blood is pumping in his veins and God, Sehun drives him fucking _crazy_ \--  
  
“What?” Jongin manages.  
  
Sehun licks his lips. “Is this -- ”  
  
“Yeah,” Jongin says, “It’s good.” His hands tighten a bit on Sehun’s waist, wrinkling the material of Sehun’s shirt.  
  
Sehun licks his lips again and reaches out; grabs Jongin’s shirt to pull him close but Jongin’s too eager. They end up lurching forward; Sehun twists to place his elbow on the cushion and Jongin ends up between the back of the couch, half pressed up against Sehun’s backside.  
  
“You’re hard already?” Sehun asks, incredulously.  
  
“Yeah,” Jongin murmurs, nuzzling his mouth against the nape of Sehun’s neck, and then Sehun twists -- just right -- just so that his ass slides against Jongin’s mostly hard dick and _fuck,_ Jongin reflexively bucks forward, thrusting his erection into that pressure.  
  
“Oh my God,” Jongin says.  
  
“Yeah?” Sehun says shakily. He rolls his hips back experimentally and Jongin grabs onto the couch seat with one hand and Sehun’s hip with the other.  
  
“Fuck,” Jongin croaks, “I -- ”  
  
“Come _on,”_ Sehun breathes out, thrusting back on Jongin’s crotch.  
  
And then Jongin’s gripping onto Sehun’s waist, draping himself over Sehun’s back and his head’s full of this static, this weird broken repeat of _fuck fuck fuck_ and _Sehun Sehun Sehun._ Mai’s so far gone out of his thoughts he can’t even remember how long her hair is or what she looks like when she smiles. All that matters is the way Sehun’s ass is pushing against Jongin’s dick and Jongin feels a bit ashamed since he’s thrusting erratically, dry-humping his best friend’s ass and _holy shit_ \--  
  
It feels desperate and dirty and wrong, that Sehun’s pretending to be this girl that Jongin doesn’t even like --  
  
And Jongin’s just -- just _using_ Mai as the pretense for this; so Jongin twists Sehun back around, sliding forward until Sehun’s back is pinned against the cushions of the couch.  
  
And then they’re gasping into each other’s mouths, messy and clumsy and unromantic as Jongin grinds their dicks together, rubbing his crotch up and down artlessly. He can feel Sehun’s bulge under his jeans and grips Sehun’s thigh and comes so hard he’ll leave bruises that’ll last for a week, in the exact shape of his hand.  
  
A ragged cry rips its way out of Sehun’s throat as Sehun convulses, bucking up mindlessly, rutting against the planes of Jongin’s belly and crotch.  
  
They both come back from the high a moment later -- Sehun’s mouth is slack and his shirt rucked up and rumpled, a dark stain spreading on the front of his jeans; Jongin’s fingers are unfurled over Sehun’s collarbone and he can’t stop looking at Sehun’s lips.  
  
“Fuck,” Sehun exhales through his mouth. His hair’s fallen in his face. Jongin grunts and sits up.  
  
Sehun says, “I’ll shower first?” and then goes. Jongin takes the bathroom after. Then they go back to the couch. They sit, but leave a bit of space in between. Sehun presses play, then Captain Kirk appears onscreen with space aliens and Spock.

  
  
Jongin and his basketball team win their next game.  
  
“Why don’t you go over to Yifan’s?” Sehun asks.  
  
They’re sitting in their dorm room. It’s kind of sad, that they’re just staying in on a Friday night, but Jongin doesn’t really feel like going out after what happened at the last party he went to.  
  
“I’m not feeling it tonight,” he says.  
  
“But you scored the winning shot,” Sehun frowns. “You should be out celebrating.”  
  
“I don’t want any of that.”  
  
“You have to want something.” Sehun crosses his arms. “Last game, you wanted everyone to recognize how awesome your layup was. And you always want to hear Yifan tell you you did a good job.”  
  
“Well,” Jongin rolls his eyes. “I can’t really get what I want right now.”  
  
“What,” Sehun peers at him curiously. “Now I have to know.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Tell me.”  
  
“I said no.”  
  
“You want to get laid,” Sehun guesses.  
  
Jongin flushes and uncrosses his arms. “Do not,” he says indignantly.  
  
“Yeah?” Sehun arches a perfectly shaped eyebrow.  
  
Jongin makes a dying whale noise.  
  
“Well, just get Mai,” Sehun says diplomatically.  
  
“Didn’t work out.”  
  
“You’ve been working too hard. You deserve something nice.”  
  
Jongin snaps, “What, are you going to make sure of it personally?”  
  
Sehun looks away. “Do you want me to?”  
  
“I don’t -- ”  
  
“You haven’t gone out in a while,” Sehun reasons. “And you scored a perfect shot today.” Sehun bites his bottom lip.  
  
“What are you,” Jongin says. He tries not to sound too eager. “A nice girl at the party?”  
  
There’s this dark current running through the room, thrumming in Jongin’s veins. It’s slow and muddy and thick with want.  
  
Sehun’s eyes are dark. “We just had a few drinks. You played so well, Jongin. What do you do?”  
  
Jongin doesn’t -- can’t even try -- to resist: he just leans in and grabs onto Sehun’s stupid shirt that says _World’s #0 Computer Programmer_ and kisses Sehun’s stupid mouth that always tastes like cafeteria coffee and cough drops and slips his knee in between Sehun’s stupid long legs that look like a million bucks no matter what he wears.  
  
“You’re so good,” Sehun murmurs against Jongin’s lips. “Fuck, Jongin, you’re so -- ”  
  
This is fucked up. This is so fucked up because Jongin isn’t even into guys, except for Sehun apparently, but they’re best friends and Sehun doesn’t even like him like that -- so how the hell can this be their fourth kiss?  
  
Jongin tries to slide his knee up so he can rut up against Sehun’s crotch but Sehun must be doing that valiant, selfless thing again because he jerks away and slides to his knees.  
  
Holy fuck.  
  
“Holy fuck,” Jongin croaks.  
  
Sehun’s kneeling in front of him, looking up through his eyelashes and Jongin can’t fucking _breathe_ \-- he can’t think about anything other than the fact that Sehun’s so gorgeous and Jongin has no idea how to tell him he’s absolutely, head over heels in love.  
  
Because: Sehun’s just edging out the nonexistent competition for the title of The Bestest Friend Anyone Could Ever Ask for in the Entire Universe and Space-time Continuum, Ever by helping Jongin out. Because: Sehun’s pawing at Jongin’s belt and fumbling with the buckle. Because: they’re stone-cold sober and this feels absolutely, positively terrifying.  
  
“Just close your eyes,” Sehun says, his breath warm on Jongin’s dick. “Pretend I’m that girl from your econ class.”  
  
Before Jongin can say he doesn’t need to imagine anyone else, Sehun places his pink tongue on Jongin’s dick and Jongin forgets that he can even say anything at all.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
(Maybe it’s this:  
  
Staying up late together, watching a cheesy movie on Sehun’s laptop with all the lights off, windows shut and curtains drawn. The white light of the screen lighting half of Sehun’s face in perfect chiaroscuro. Sehun’s mumbling criticisms of the movie under his breath, his hand snuck under Jongin’s shirt and fingers brushing Jongin’s hipbone. Jongin’s breath on Sehun’s neck.  
  
When they are hanging out at Luhan’s soccer game and there are no seats left so Jongin just shrugs and splays his legs and Sehun gingerly lowers himself onto Jongin’s lap. And Jongin is so distracted he doesn’t even know if Luhan wins or loses.  
  
One time when Jongin comes back to the dorm and it’s so hot; the AC’s broken so he only puts on a thin pair of boxers and Sehun’s not wearing a shirt. They throw open all the windows and sprawl across the floor. Sehun’s skirt is perfect pink and Jongin wants to kiss him so bad. Jongin’s afraid. Jongin wants. Jongin doesn’t touch.  
  
Maybe it’s this aching, longing that resides deep within Jongin’s chest; this weird feeling he gets around Sehun: of comfort and want and familiarity and unfamiliarity all at the same time.)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
\---  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sehun isn't ashamed.  
  
It’s just weird. And Jongin’s been acting weird and this whole thing is weird because it’s like they’re best friends with benefits except they don’t really talk about it or acknowledge it in any other way than their mouths pressed against each other. And Jongin doesn't even like guys so this whole thing is a weird fucking mess.  
  
Jongin’s working hard. They both are. But Jongin juggles a varsity sport and a part-time job at the cafe and an outgoing, friendly demeanor; he calls his mom every weekend and it’s hard to believe he still makes time for Sehun.  
  
Here’s another reason why it’s weird: most of their other friends had branched away, immersing themselves into their respective cliques. Yifan just hangs out with the basketball guys and sometimes his friends from the gym; Luhan with his soccer friends; Baekhyun and Jongdae with the theater and performing arts kids.  
  
Sehun and Jongin always have and always will be friends, but it’s weird because their extracurricular activities are so different, and they’re not even majoring in the same thing.  
  
Sehun kind of likes to think of it as Romeo and Juliet, except instead of killing themselves Romeo puts himself into too many extracurriculars and gets a torn ACL; and Juliet dies from caffeine overdose and poor eyesight thanks to hours of debugging. Romantic, right? Sehun would’ve given Shakespeare a run for his money, if he hadn’t decided to be a computer programmer instead.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
(Before:  
  
Summer before university. Away from home. Studying abroad. Independence. Immersion of culture. All that stuff that looks good on paper.  
  
Before Australia, Sehun didn’t really think much of anything. Sophomore year he still drooled over Kim Hyuna in a cheerleading skirt, same as the rest of the other guys. But then he went abroad and maybe it was the new environment, or a different perspective, or something in the water or something, because then all of the sudden he realized he liked boys. Like, a lot.  
  
He likes the way they look. The way their hands and their knuckles are broad and worn. So Sehun doesn’t say anything about it when he comes back, but Jongin must have guessed, or something. But he doesn’t treat Sehun any differently and for that, Sehun is grateful.)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Theater again.  
  
Jessica Jung is out of town so Junmyeon needs a girl in the lead to croon love songs to; Baekhyun pipes up -- “Sehun loves wearing dresses” -- and Sehun rolls his eyes because 1) that’s so typical of Baekhyun, and 2) yeah okay, whatever; he thinks that his legs look good in them and it’s nice to feel pretty but Baekhyun doesn't need to fucking out him at every given opportunity. And 3) Luhan does it all the time too, and Luhan’s way prettier than Sehun.  
  
Some of the guys rib him about it, but the practice goes through fine. Sehun’s still wearing the dress when he returns to the practice room. Because the universe actually hates him, Jongin’s sitting on a stool there, waiting.  
  
Jongin looks at Sehun and Sehun looks at Jongin.  
  
Neither of them know what the fuck is going on because Sehun is pretty sure Jongin’s only in this for the accessible ass because that thing with Mai didn’t work out -- but Sehun can’t even bring himself to care, because he’s _that_ fucked up over Kim Jongin and of fucking course he would fall for his best friend, straighter than a ruler, stereotypical basketball jock who’s fawned over by the cheerleaders every game.  
  
Sehun drags Jongin into the spare supply closet.  
  
“What are you doing here,” Sehun hisses.  
  
“Why are you wearing a dress,” Jongin asks, not even looking at Sehun’s face because he’s roving his gaze over Sehun’s body, and Sehun’s flattered and all, but this is a working environment and they really need to control themselves.  
  
“Don’t you have practice?”  
  
“Cancelled,” Jongin says easily.  
  
“Who let you in?”  
  
“Baekhyun did,” because of course.  
  
“Sehun,” Junmyeon’s voice comes wafting through.  
  
Jongin jolts in surprise and knocks two Venetian masks off the shelf. Sehun glares at him and answers, “I’m in here. I’m changing.”  
  
“Practice is over. Will you be here tomorrow?”  
  
“Yeah,” Sehun calls out, “See you tomorrow.”  
  
“Sorry,” Jongin whispers sheepishly.  
  
Sehun bends over to retrieve the fallen props, then -- at Jongin’s choked noise -- remembers that he isn’t wearing any underwear.  
  
Jongin starts, “You’re not -- ”  
  
Sehun squeezes his eyes shut and vehemently wills his blood to simmer down.  
  
There’s a rustle as Jongin steps forward, and Sehun really shouldn’t have dragged them into an enclosed space, because this close he can smell Jongin’s cologne and the scent of the rubbery material of basketballs. It must be some kind of conditioning because as soon as Jongin brushes a hand over the material of the dress over Sehun’s waist, Sehun lets out this pathetic whimper. He reaches forward and grabs onto the shelf for stability.  
  
“Jesus,” Jongin murmurs. He sounds like he’s in awe. “Did you walk around all of practice like this?”  
  
“No,” Sehun pants, “No, God, I just took them off because I was going to change -- ”  
  
The rest of his sentence is swallowed down when Jongin runs his enormous, calloused hands up Sehun’s thigh.  
  
Like the perfect gentleman he is, Jongin murmurs, “This okay?”  
  
“Uh huh.” Sehun clutches the shelf when he feels Jongin’s hand slide up his ass, thumbing at the small of his back.   
  
“God,” Jongin says, and he sounds like he’s in awe. “Sehun, you’re -- ”  
  
“Come on,” Sehun says, swaying back a bit. His hands are still clutching the shelf and he’s all but bent over. “Jongin, touch me. Don’t make me wait like this.”  
  
Jongin roves his hands over Sehun’s back, the knobs at the base of his spine. He drags his palms over Sehun’s ass cheeks and the backs of his thighs before squeezing and massaging. His index finger brushes lightly -- as if by accident -- against the rim of Sehun’s asshole.  
  
Sehun bites his bottom lip to keep from moaning. Instead, he shifts his weight from left foot to right foot, then widens his stance a bit. Sehun starts, “You can -- ”  
  
“Fucking hell,” Jongin swears. “Sehun, you can’t say things like that.”  
  
“Not like that,” Sehun says, “But just -- between my legs.”  
  
Jongin makes a whimpering sound. “Sehun,” he begins.  
  
“Okay, yeah,” Sehun says, “Come on, Jongin.”  
  
Jongin makes a spitting noise and when he brushes his hand in between Sehun’s thighs, his fingers are slick. The sound of a buckle being undone. “Can I just -- ”  
  
“Yes,” Sehun says too fast, “Yeah, just -- ”  
  
Jongin leans forward and his hard cock slips between Sehun’s thighs. Sehun would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of this (and other things) before, but right now he’s never felt so exposed in his life, with Jongin pulling up the hem of the dress and Sehun bending over to present himself.  
  
They end up with the dress rucked up and Jongin sawing his dick in between Sehun’s slick thighs, his cock thick and blunt and catching on Sehun’s balls every other thrust and God it’s _so_ good --  
  
And even afterwards: Jongin turns him around so gently (always gentle) and deliberate, holds him tight so Sehun can rub off on Jongin’s stomach.  
  
“Can I,” Jongin murmurs, hand hovering over Sehun’s crotch and oh, what the hell.  
  
Sehun nods and Jongin puts his hand over Sehun’s bulge, eyes wide and watching as though he’s fascinated. And Jongin just stares: as Sehun fucks up into the cup of Jongin’s hand, Sehun writhing and moaning, desperate and needy with his skimpy dress all wrinkled and come still drying in between his thighs. Sehun feels like a slut but it’s so hot but so fucked up but so hot.  
  
Because it’s a universal truth that everyone knows: it’s more gay to be the one bending over and most guys will let themselves fuck an ass -- but what the fuck ever, man. Sehun’s willing to take one for the team if it means he’ll get to see Jongin like this -- squeezing his hand over Sehun’s hard cock, clutching desperately onto Sehun’s shoulder, his mouth open and gaping like he’s dumbstruck or something.  
  
That alone is well worth the scandalized looks they get upon emerging from the supply closet ten minutes later.  
  
  
  
The next week, Minseok corners Sehun.  
  
Minseok goes, “You must fucking hate yourself.”  
  
They’re at the campus cafe. Jongin’s working at the counter. Sehun and Minseok are reaping the benefits, sipping discounted coffee at the table closest to the door. “What do you mean,” Sehun says.  
  
“For fucking around with Jongin.”  
  
“I don’t know what you're talking about.”  
  
Minseok tries another tactic. “I didn’t know he was into guys.”  
  
Sehun digs his nails into his palm. “He’s not.”  
  
“But you fuck around,” Minseok insists.  
  
Sehun shrugs uncomfortably.  
  
Minseok pinches the bridge of his nose. “You should talk to him.”  
  
“I will do no such thing.” Sehun sips at his coffee. He watches Jongin even now as he’s taking orders for a pair of girls who smile a little too brightly at him. He doesn’t belong to Sehun.  
  
Jongin doesn’t belong to Sehun. That much is true.  
  
But it’s kind of confusing because one night, Jongin goes out with Chanyeol and Yifan and comes back absolutely plastered.  
  
He swings the door open and giggles when he sees Sehun in bed.  
  
“What,” Sehun says groggily, lifting his head off his pillow where he was just about to fall asleep.  
  
“Can I try something?” Jongin says.  
  
Sehun’s about to say that he has to be prepped if Jongin wants to fuck him that badly, but all Jongin does after getting Sehun’s pants off is put his mouth on Sehun’s dick.  
  
It’s kinda gay.  
  
It’s kinda gay, but most definitely, absolutely, really good: Jongin slurps and sucks obnoxiously, so much that Sehun has to pull him off when Jongin starts choking on Sehun’s cock. As pretty as that picture is, Sehun’s kind of afraid that Jongin will vomit on his dick and choke to death so he pulls Jongin off for the greater good.  
  
Sehun doesn’t actually come with Jongin’s mouth on him, though not for lack of enthusiasm. Jongin’s far too drunk and clumsy to succeed in anything other than slobbering over Sehun’s dick for less than thirty seconds, but Sehun’s already fully hard because Jongin just turns him on like that.  
  
So they end up pressed shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip in Sehun’s cramped bed, Jongin whispering, “Yeah, fuck, faster Sehun, faster,” as he watches Sehun jerk himself off in record time. Sehun’s come splatters over his favorite t-shirt (the one with Spock on it) and Jongin passes out without even getting a hand down his own pants.  
  
Sehun stares down at the mess on his shirt before saying, “Fuck it,” and following Jongin’s lead.  
  
They wake up the next morning in a puddle of drool and sweat and dried come. Sehun winces but Jongin just stares at the stain on Sehun’s shirt before falling asleep. Sehun has a morning lecture to attend, and when he comes back, Jongin’s cleaned the sheets and washed Sehun’s shirt so clean he even got out the spaghetti stain from three weeks ago.  
  
“Thanks,” Sehun says.  
  
“You’re welcome,” Jongin replies, cheeks only slightly pink.  
  
So Jongin was really drunk. It makes sense. Half of the time when they mess around, it’s only when Jongin’s really drunk. He’s just -- just a _nice guy_ and he wanted to pay back for once; it’s not like he actually _likes_ Sehun, not when he has literally all of the freshmen girls and half of the sophomore ones drooling over him during practice. Jongin’s just fucking oblivious sometimes but as soon as he starts learning how to flirt back, Jongin will be able to get into any skirt he wants to (including Sehun’s, but that’s only for something for Sehun to know).  
  
It makes Sehun feel kind of weird because he should be, as a best friend, helping Jongin achieve the maximum level of hook-ups as possible, which wouldn’t be hard for any star varsity player except Jongin’s about as seductive as a newborn bunny (that is, not very seductive or sexy in mannerisms at all). He’s just really cute and shy off the court, despite the fact that he’s built like a fucking Korean Adonis.  
  
  
  
The next week Sehun meets with one of Jongin’s admirers in person.  
  
They’re at a party in Yifan’s apartment and Jongin’s disappeared to show off at beer pong. Normally Sehun would find Zitao or Baekhyun, but today the former’s busy taking shots with Yifan and the latter’s making out with Chanyeol on the couch. Instead, Sehun’s enjoying a cup of beer on the sidelines, just taking in the party, when someone distinctly female-sounding goes, “Hey Sehun.”  
  
It’s surprising to see Mai standing next to him.  
  
“Hi,” he says. “How do you know me?”  
  
Immediately he winces; not the best way to introduce himself, but he _is_ talking to Jongin’s kind of ex-girlfriend, now friend, so things are bound to be a little awkward.  
  
“I saw you making out with Jongin at the last party,” she smiles.  
  
“Oh,” Sehun blanches. “Uh.”  
  
“How is Jongin, by the way? I saw him at the football game but didn’t have a chance to say hi.”  
  
“Fine,” Sehun says, “I mean, I dunno.”  
  
She drains the rest of her cup. “So what are you now?”  
  
Bemusedly, he replies, “We’re roommates.”  
  
She looks confused.  
  
“Wait,” Sehun says, “What are you talking about?”  
  
“What are _you_ talking about?”  
  
“What’s a pretty girl doing at this party without drinks?” someone shoves into their conversation and Mai rolls her eyes before giving Sehun an apologetic smile.  
  
“I’ll see you later?” she raises an eyebrow at Sehun before returning to the guy who’s offering her another drink.  
  
Sehun turns away and doesn’t think much of it again.  
  
Life goes on.  
  
  
  
One day Sehun has to pick up his sister at the airport and Jongin ends up driving him so that he can get off campus for a bit. Sehun’s older sister coos and pinches Jongin’s cheeks, going on and on about how handsome he is now, and they all end up getting black bean noodles and talking for a few hours. It’s scary -- how easily Jongin gets along with the rest of his family.  
  
And then another time: they come home after a mixer moderately drunk and Jongin clambers into Sehun’s bunk. They kiss sloppy and slow. Sehun ends up half-sitting, half-grinding on Jongin’s lap while Jongin leans back on the bed.  
  
“Please take these off,” Jongin pants, pawing at Sehun’s shorts.  
  
Sehun lifts to shuck them off then sucks two fingers into his own mouth, then shoves those fingers down to slip them inside himself. He may or may not be showing off.  
  
“Oh my God,” Jongin says. His bambi eyes are huge and he looks awestruck. “Holy shit. Do you -- do you do this to yourself?”  
  
“Sometimes,” Sehun breathes out shakily, letting his eyes fall half-lidded so he can concentrate on the familiar burn as he rocks into his fingers when he scissors himself open. Jongin’s jaw is slack and Sehun’s a bit flattered. “When you’re not here. When you’re at practice.”  
  
“Holy shit,” Jongin whispers. “Holy shit.”  
  
Sehun’s so drunk, so high off the way Jongin’s staring at him, like he wants him, like he wants Sehun so bad -- so Sehun blurts out, “You can -- you can try. If you want.”  
  
“Fuck yeah,” Jongin slurs out, then reaches up and brushes his pointer finger around the edge of Sehun’s hole. Then Jongin kisses him and pushes in so gently Sehun actually wants to cry.  
  
Jongin’s fingers are longer, thick and calloused from years of dribbling and handling balls (hah) and they feel so fucking good. Sehun _keens_ because firstly, Jongin gets in much deeper than Sehun can by himself, but also because Jongin’s Jongin: slow and a little shaky, but so fucking considerate when he carefully pushes in another finger, smooth and easy even as Sehun pushes down greedily for more.  
  
“You’re so tight,” Jongin says, eyes blown. “You’re so fucking tight,” he murmurs, reverently, hips rocking up in this drunken rhythm. It matches the way Jongin’s fingers scissor slowly and it’s like this off-cadence beat; it’s imperfect: Sehun’s fingers must be clutching too tightly on Jongin’s hair and Sehun’s right knee keeps bumping into the wall.  
  
But -- it’s so good.  
  
It’s slow and flawed and it’s enough to make Sehun come when Jongin crooks his fingers just right.  
  
His orgasm hits him in the gut and it takes a few seconds for him to come back.  
  
When he does, Jongin’s looking up at him, open-mouthed and glassy-eyed, whimpering: “Sehun, Jesus, Sehun -- ”  
  
“Come on,” Sehun pants, “Just take what you need, Jongin, God, just -- ”  
  
Eagerly, Jongin rolls them over.  
  
Sehun’s legs spread of their own accord, wrapping around Jongin’s hips. Jongin’s still fully clothed but he must be too close, too drunk, doesn’t care, so he ends up just rutting against Sehun’s ass like that, nibbling on Sehun’s earlobe and murmuring dirty, filthy nothings, “I want to fuck you so bad, Sehun, I want to take you apart,” until he comes violently with a shudder.  
  
When this whole thing blows over, Sehun will be heartbroken. But he can’t bring himself to say anything as Jongin sleepily cleans them both up, dragging the sheets over them as they fall asleep.  
  
Another wave of homework and exams hits them, so they go without drunk make-out sessions for a few weeks. Sehun has to bring over Joohyun from his CS100 class so they can work on their project together.  
  
“You have a really messy room,” she says when she first walks in.  
  
Sehun rolls his eyes. “You have really messy code.”  
  
She smacks his arm but sits down and takes out her laptop.  
  
“So who’s your roommate,” she asks. Sehun doesn’t really want to answer.  
  
“Finish the pseudocode and I’ll tell you,” he bargains. They sit side by side on Sehun’s bed and begin.  
  
Sehun likes Joohyun. She doesn’t take any shit from him and he doesn’t take any shit from her; so they banter a lot and it’s an easy friendship. In fact, they work so well that two hours pass before Sehun realizes it, then the dorm room door is opening and Jongin’s walking in.  
  
“Oh,” he says. His perfect golden skin is sweaty and his hair’s a little rumpled from practice. He looks delectable.  
  
Apparently, Joohyun thinks so too. “Hi,” she says, much too cheerily.  
  
Sehun swats her shoulder and Joohyun kicks his calf.  
  
Jongin tracks the movement and says belatedly. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you guys were… ”  
  
“Coding,” Joohyun finishes helpfully.  
  
“Right.” Jongin blinks then leaves.  
  
“He’s so cute,” Joohyun says.  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
It’s awkward for three days.  
  
Jongin avoids Sehun, which takes a lot of effort, considering the fact that they are roommates. He slinks out of the room before Sehun wakes on the excuse of getting in extra practice even though Sehun knows that the basketball court doesn’t open early on weekdays. He comes home late reeking of cheap beer and passes out before Sehun can get a word in edgewise.  
  
On the afternoon of the fourth day, Jongin comes in after Math 250 and sits down on his bed. Sehun’s so surprised to see Jongin he physically does a double-take.  
  
“Hi,” Sehun says cautiously.  
  
“So do you like her?” Jongin blurts out.  
  
“What?”  
  
“The girl from your CS class. The one you brought over this week.”  
  
Sehun frowns. “Joohyun? What about her?”  
  
“Do you like her?”  
  
Jongin must be really fucking dumb. Or high. Or something. “I don’t,” Sehun starts. He flushes and looks away. He clears his throat. “I don’t like girls.”  
  
“You -- oh.”  
  
“Yeah,” Sehun says bitterly.  
  
“That’s not,” Jongin begins. “I mean… but -- ”  
  
“Look, just leave it,” Sehun says. Jongin looks so hurt that Sehun forces himself to smile and say, “It’s okay, Jongin.”  
  
It really is okay. Jongin is straight and Sehun is head over heels in love with him. But it’s okay. He’ll take any desperate thing he can.  
  
“I like girls,” Jongin says unnecessarily. He’s shifting his weight from left foot to right foot. He looks nervous.  
  
“I know.”  
  
“But I like you too,” he blurts out. “One of my coworkers heard you talking to Minseok. In the shop. Last week.”  
  
Sehun blanches. “What.”  
  
Jongin looks terrified. “I mean, I think I like boys too, I don't know, like -- ”  
  
“Oh,” Sehun says. He tries not to feel disappointed. Shut up, he tells himself, shut the fuck up, how could someone like Kim Jongin ever like you? “So you want to -- to know.”  
  
“To know?” Jongin looks confused which makes Sehun confused.  
  
Sehun licks his lips. “Like to know whether you like guys or not too.”  
  
Jongin looks even more bewildered. “I -- I mean, I guess -- ”  
  
There’s a knock on their open door and Joohyun walks in with two cups of coffee.  
  
“Is this a bad time?” she asks, looking at them suspiciously.  
  
“Nope,” Jongin all but stands up and bolts out of the room.  
  
She gives his retreating backside an appreciative look, then puts the cups of coffee down.  
  
“What was that all about?”  
  
Sehun’s heart hammers in his chest. “No idea.”  
  
  
  
Things kind of go back to normal. That is, as normal as vaguely defined and poorly coordinated friends with benefits can be.  
  
Chanyeol invites both of them to karaoke with Baekhyun and Yifan and Zitao and some other basketball guys that Sehun doesn’t know. Sehun’s about to make an excuse to not go but Jongin looks so distraught that Sehun says yes, despite the mountain of work waiting for him back at the dorm.  
  
They order too many of the mediocre pizzas and pile into a too small room. Sehun ends up next to Jongin, and it should be awkward, but it isn’t, because it’s just like a night out with their friends.  
  
Jongin asks him a simple question but they end up talking for the majority of their time in the karaoke room. Which is fine, since it just gives Chanyeol and Baekhyun more time to croon love songs to each other. Sehun ends up explaining the OSI model to Jongin. It can’t be interesting -- an explanation of how routing and subnet traffic control works -- but Jongin keeps listening raptly, doesn’t even blink when Baekhyun screeches out a high note.  
  
And Sehun can deal with this -- this, situation, where his best friend is his best friend, but behind closed doors, Jongin’s just _curious._ Sehun? Sehun’s going to help him out. Help him figure out if he likes guys or not, that’s all it is.  
  
At least, that must be all it is for Jongin. But it’s a different matter for Sehun.  
  
Because Jongin’s so _sweet._ Despite his kind of asshole basketball friends and his proclivity to hang out with said assholes, at heart, Jongin is one of the kindest people Sehun has met.  
  
Exhibit A) When crunchtime hits, Sehun’s neck-deep in his code for a data science class he now regrets signing up for. He hasn’t seen natural sunlight for the better part of two days, and there’s a pile of Red Bull cans and Calpico bottles and instant noodle packages covering the floor of their dorm. Jongin comes in, takes one look, and says, “What’s wrong?”  
  
Sehun lifts his head from where his face was mashed on his keyboard. He blinks several times and says, “This _code_  -- it won’t work, and I have no idea why. I just take the contents of the cell and compare it against .05, how the hell can this _not_ be True or False?”  
  
Sehun stares at his screen. Red text stares back:  
  
_Error in if ((drug3$pVal[i]) <= 0.05) { : _ _  
_ _missing value where TRUE/FALSE needed_ _  
_ _  
_ “Look,” Sehun points an accusatory finger at his code.  
  
“Okay,” Jongin says, pulling up a chair with an infinite amount of patience. His expression is open, expectant. “So in layman's terms?”  
  
“So I take this p-value from the data,” Sehun says slowly, staring blearily at his screen, “And then compare it to .05. But it’s telling me that it isn’t a boolean expression?” He makes another groan of frustration.  
  
“Well,” Jongin says reasonably, even though Sehun thinks that Jongin probably has no idea what he’s talking about. “Your code’s got to be right -- ”  
  
“But it says that it’s _not_ \-- ”  
  
“So what if something’s wrong with the data?”  
  
Sehun pauses for a second. It takes his mind -- which has been as of late running primarily off of Jin ramen and gatorade and Calpico and the fermented fumes of basketball gear stewing in a shower bag -- a second. Then he’s hunched over, pulling out the code, where _drug3$pVal[23]_ reads --  
  
“NA,” Sehun breathes out. “Oh my fucking God, it can’t compare NA to a number -- ” Sehun whirls around and flings his arms around Jongin, who makes a noise of surprise before hugging back just as tightly. Sehun loses another half a day trying to patch up the rest of the mistakes, but the sentiment still rings through.  
  
Exhibit B) Still crunchtime. The heavy strain of exams and homework are weighing down on the entire campus. The library and cafes are crowded, though not with conversation and not with the normal light laughter and smiles that accompany such areas.  
  
So it isn’t shocking to see Jongin hunched over his desk, scribbling out an outline for an essay in World Literature -- probably something about one Brontë or another, if the papers strewn across his desk are any indication. What is kind of shocking is the fact that Jongin’s eyes are staring blankly at his essay, his expression blank.  
  
“Jongin,” Sehun starts.  
  
Jongin scrambles upright. “Oh,” he says. His voice sounds hoarse, like he’s been crying. His eyes are tinged red and burry. “Hi.” Jongin looks around, as though he’s surprised to see himself in his dorm, and not, in fact, living in some ancient Victorian estate situated on the stormy, tumultuous moors of the British Isles.  
  
Jongin blinks again and then starts hastily scrambling to gather his things. “Sorry,” he mutters, “I was just leaving -- ”  
  
“No,” Sehun says, slightly jarred, “It’s fine, I just -- ”  
  
Jongin wipes at his nose and tries to turn away.  
  
Here’s the thing: Sehun sucks at communicating. It’s expected, right? If engineer, then lack of social skills, yeah?  
  
So Sehun communicates in the only way he can.  
  
He tosses his bookbag onto the onto the floor and comes over to to give Jongin a hug.  
  
Jongin just -- sort of _melts_ in Sehun’s grip, his limbs going loose and his breathing wracking his whole body. He starts going on about Emily Brontë and how Heathcliff is a total asshole so Sehun just holds him through it and tries to remember the last time he saw Jongin sleep.  
  
“You need to take care of yourself, too,” Sehun murmurs, because Jongin’s an absolute idiot, juggling all of his intramural sports and part time jobs and practices.  
  
Jongin mumbles something else and Sehun shoves the papers aside and wraps Jongin in his blankets so he can sleep off the horrors of Heathcliff’s actions.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
(Before:  
  
Jongin was always the better-looking one. He’s tan and smooth and muscly in all the right places, with perfect dimples and a warm smile. The girls (and a few of the boys) eat it right up.  
  
One would assume that Jongin would be suave, calm, and collected when flirting. Sehun’s here to announce that it’s the opposite: Jongin’s an absolute mess when it comes to interacting with members of the opposite gender and he’s even worse at initiating conversation with a cute girl -- except when he’s drunk, but that’s another conversation entirely. It helps that Jongin has a nice face, but sometimes he’s just so _oblivious_ and he’s so innocent that he doesn’t realize someone’s flirting when it’s too late. It’s the only reason as to why Jongin’s still mostly a virgin. At least that's what Sehun thinks.)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“I’ll make out with Sehun.”  
  
Sehun doesn’t know how they got to this point.  
  
They were just kicking back at Yifan’s place with a few guys from the soccer team, a couple of cheerleaders, then Chanyeol brought out some alcohol because they’re in college, so whatever. That Sehun understands.  
  
Then they had ended up sprawled in this circle on the carpet in the living room and Yixing -- who’s super drunk, by the way, as all of them are -- was talking about how it’d be hot if Mai and her friend made out and -- okay, Sehun can get on board with that picture. That Sehun can also understand.  
  
But then Mai had rolled her eyes and said, “Can you get any more stereotypical? Why don’t you guys make out?”  
  
“I’ll make out with Sehun,” Jongin grins wolfishly, without even pausing to consult with Sehun. Sehun chokes on his drink and Yifan thumps him firmly on the back.  
  
“You wouldn’t,” Mai smirks. But she’s got this knowing glint in her eye and Sehun knows that she and Jongin have moved to the status of Good Friends now, so Sehun wonders what the hell Jongin’s been telling her.  
  
“It’d be hot if you two made out,” Jongin says, winking at Mai’s roommate. “Do we have a deal?”  
  
A few of the other girls giggle in excitement and Baekhyun actually squeals.  
  
Sehun barely has time to swallow his beer before Jongin’s leaning up into his space, grinning from ear to ear. Sehun automatically grins right back and then they’re kissing and it’s fucking fantastic because --  
  
Because: Sehun knows Jongin’s mouth well enough now that they kiss slow and smooth, like they’re putting on a show and expecting good tips for the end of the night. Because: Jongin sighs sweetly and opens up like how the soil opens up after rain. Because: Jongin runs a thumb down Sehun’s cheek then promptly swings his leg across Sehun’s hips and slides into Sehun’s lap.  
  
Someone gasps but Sehun moans; just concentrates on the dizzy spin of hot blood that rushes south, on the way Jongin pries his mouth open and licks his way inside like he’s chasing Sehun’s moan down his throat --  
  
Jongin snakes a hand down Sehun’s chest then cups Sehun’s bulge.  
  
Sehun surges forward -- his head pounding with desire and alcohol and _Jongin Jongin Jongin_ \-- and Jongin ends up with his back flat on the floor, legs open around Sehun’s waist as Sehun kisses him deeply.  
  
Jongin laughs into Sehun’s mouth and it tastes so sweet.  
  
They pull apart a second later, Jongin still smiling and Sehun still staring at the way Jongin’s mouth moves. Mai’s cheeks are flushed but she’s grinning; the girls and Minseok and Luhan look kind of scandalized but kind of turned on; and Chanyeol and Baekhyun are whooping loudly. Sehun’s so caught up in Jongin that he doesn’t even remember whether the girls make out or not.  
  
What he does remember, however, is Jongin dragging them up the stairs shortly afterwards; Jongin blowing him messily in the bathroom and Sehun shoving down Jongin’s pants to return the favor.  
  
  
  
Minseok corners Sehun the next day.  
  
“So,” Minseok demands, plopping down at Sehun’s table in the dining hall.  
  
Sehun stabs his sausage and ignores Minseok. He hopes that he’ll go away.  
  
“So,” Sehun drags out, when it’s clear Minseok isn’t leaving.  
  
“You guys aren’t dating,” Minseok says.  
  
Sehun thinks of the show they put on last night. Sehun blushes. “No.”  
  
“But you’re still -- ”  
  
Sehun’s blush deepens. He saws his knife through the sausage but doesn’t bother eating it. “Yeah.”  
  
Minseok stares at him. “You better know what you’re doing,” he says eventually.  
  
“Don’t worry,” Sehun says. He jabs his fork through a piece of egg. “I don’t.”  
  
Minseok keeps staring. “For someone who doesn’t like guys, Jongin did a pretty good job of sucking your face last night.”  
  
“He likes guys. He thinks. That’s what we’re trying to find out.”  
  
“He -- doesn’t know?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“But you guys fuck around.”  
  
Yellow yolk oozes out from Sehun’s egg and Sehun watches it blankly. “Yeah, but like -- you know.”  
  
Minseok frowns. “So he’s using you -- to experiment?”  
  
“It’s bad when you put it like that,” Sehun snaps. He wonders if it’d be rude to just get up and leave.  
  
“Sehun,” Minseok says, offended, “You can’t use your best friend to _experiment_ \-- ”  
  
“Will you keep it down,” Sehun hisses, glancing around. He does not need this right now.  
  
“Sorry,” Minseok whispers, but he still looks scandalized. “But you can’t offer yourself up like a -- a piece of _meat_ \-- Sehun, you have _feelings_ and you have feelings for Jongin -- ”  
  
“He does _not_ see me like a piece of meat,” Sehun says aggressively. “It’s not like that,” he insists. “Jongin’s not like that.”  
  
“You guys are so fucked up,” Minseok says.  
  
Sehun goes, “Tell me about it.”  
  
A few weeks later they go to a football game to support their schoolmates (read: Jongin’s all for intersport endorsement and Sehun just goes because he knows there’ll be an afterparty with free alcohol) and end up going to a running back’s house for some drinks.  
  
Zitao’s there and so Sehun gets into a rather heated debate over the merits of coding with Python versus Java in introductory courses when a crowd in the kitchen forms.  
  
Zitao glances over and snorts. “Typical.”  
  
Sehun cranes his neck. “What?”  
  
“One of the girls is trying to chat up your roommate.”  
  
The sea of heads parts just long enough for Sehun to catch a glimpse of Jongin leaning against the sink, his fingers clutching a red Solo cup and his head ducked shyly. He’s laughing, but isn’t drunk enough to make any sort of moves yet, probably, judging by the way the girl giggles cutely but definitely moves closer.  
  
From the sidelines, the guys are hooting, laughing; a few of the girl’s friends are watching and hiding smiles behind their hands.  
  
“Go for it,” someone yells.  
  
She leans in, a sloshing cup still in hand, and kisses Jongin, real nice and slow.  
  
Sehun tries not to look. Honestly, he does. It feels like -- like voyeurism (though that doesn’t stop the rest of the jocks from watching, the pervs) and it feels a bit like betrayal. But Sehun can’t stop watching the way Jongin puts a hand to her waist to steady her, the way his eyes slide close and the way he kisses back almost automatically, gentle but firm and unyielding.  
  
Thank God that Sehun’s on the engineering track, otherwise -- if he were a fine arts major like Baekhyun or Junmyeon -- he’d be going on about how Jongin’s his favorite work of art, a real-life masterpiece: the way his hair glints with the yellowy kitchen light, the way his big hand bunches up the girl’s nice dress, the way their bodies slot well together.  
  
Thank God that Sehun’s not an art major because his fingers would be twitching for a camera or a charcoal pencil to capture the few waves of hair coming free of Jongin’s gel, the curve of his fingers against soft fabric, the broad sweep of his shoulders.  
  
A cold curl of frustration hooks into Sehun’s gut, twisting sharply.  
  
“Yeah,” Sehun says bitterly to Zitao. “Typical.”  
  
Zitao cocks his head curiously. “You’re okay with this?”  
  
“Why wouldn’t I be?”  
  
“I thought you two were -- ”  
  
“No,” Sehun says, much too fast. “We aren’t. We were never.”  
  
“Ah.”  
  
Sehun drains the rest of his drink. “I think I’m heading back.”  
  
“Need me to walk you?”  
  
“I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow.”  
  
Zitao raises his cup in farewell and slinks off to find Yifan.  
  
After tossing his cup, Sehun manages to find the exit and slip out unnoticed.  
  
The cold air outside stings, but feels like a splash of water to the face: shocking and refreshing. It clears Sehun’s head.  
  
He has no right to be jealous. Jongin can fuck whoever he wants. They haven’t even defined what they are -- what this relationship is. Jongin’s just testing the murky waters of his sexuality with someone safe and familiar, like Sehun; and Sehun’s perfectly content being the guinea pig.  
  
Halfway across campus, Sehun hears the sound of running coming from behind him.  
  
“Hey,” a voice calls out.  
  
Jongin jogs up to Sehun. He smiles, loose and easy and a little apologetically.  
  
“Hi,” Sehun says. He tries to hide his surprise.  
  
A bit out of breath, Jongin asks, “Where are you going?”  
  
They walk together, falling into step as easy as breathing. “Back to the dorm.”  
  
“Not feeling it?”  
  
“Yeah,” Sehun says, “What about you?”  
  
“Same.” Jongin stuffs his hands into his letterman jacket.  
  
Because he’s an idiot, Sehun blurts out, “She was really into you.”  
  
“Who?”  
  
“The girl. At the party.”  
  
“Oh,” Jongin shrugs. “Well, I wasn't really into her.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
They keep walking, drawing closer to their dorm.  
  
“Are you cold?” Jongin says a minute later.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Are you cold?” Jongin’s eyes are sharp, calculating. Definitely not drunk. “You’re shivering.”  
  
“I’m fine,” Sehun tries to say, but Jongin’s already pulling off his jacket and handing it over.  
  
“Thanks,” Sehun says. He slides on the heavy jacket and pretends to scratch his nose but really only does it because he wants to smell the jacket sleeve. It smells like Jongin.  
  
“Are you hungry?”  
  
“I’m fine.”  
  
“Let’s get bubble tea,” Jongin says anyway. Sehun can never say no to bubble tea (or to Jongin).  
  
They walk a few minutes off campus to the shop. Jongin holds the door open and follows Sehun in. The smell of sweet honey boba and green tea floods their lungs.  
  
A broad palm ghosts down Sehun’s back and a hand presses gently but possessively at the small of his back. When Sehun moves to the counter to order, he feels the shadow of Jongin’s body behind him and tries not to lean back. Jongin gently pushes Sehun aside and pays for their drinks.  
  
For a Friday night, it’s pretty busy. Customers grab their drinks and pop the thin plastic film on their cups with a straw. Pop music’s playing in the background.  
  
They find seats in a booth tucked in the back of the shop. It’s the same place they sit every time. Familiar.  
  
“What did you get?” Sehun asks Jongin.  
  
From his receipt, Jongin reads, “The Paris 1883 Milk Tea. Comes with chocolate pudding at the bottom.”  
  
Sehun snorts. “What kind of a name is Paris 1883?”  
  
“It sounds romantic,” Jongin protests, because, of course.  
  
Jongin doesn’t ask the reciprocal question because he knows that Sehun gets the same thing every time: Jasmine milk tea with honey boba, less ice, full sugar.  
  
Their orders come and Sehun lets out a small moan of enthusiasm as he drinks his milk tea.  
  
“What,” Sehun says when Jongin stares.  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
Sehun repeats: “What?”  
  
“It’s just -- it’s so easy to make you happy.”  
  
Sehun flushes. “What’s wrong with that?”  
  
“Nothing. Simple pleasures and all, right?”  
  
“Are you calling me simple?”  
  
“Would you be mad?”  
  
Very diplomatically, Sehun shrugs. “Happiness is happiness.”  
  
Jongin hums. He catches his bottom lip between his teeth and worries the plump flesh between his incisors. “I guess.”  
  
Sehun taps his foot on the floor. “You don’t agree with me?”  
  
“The little things are important.”  
  
“But?”  
  
“But aren’t the big things more important?”  
  
Sehun puts down his bubble tea. He crosses his arms. “What do you mean?”  
  
Jongin shrugs. “I don’t know.”  
  
Now Sehun’s curious. “No, tell me.”  
  
They always get like this. Sehun doesn’t know why, but he kind of likes it, and Jongin never backs down, so they’ve never stopped.  
  
“I’m just thinking,” Jongin insists.  
  
“So tell me what you’re thinking about.”  
  
“Well, drinking boba. It’s a pig pleasure, isn’t it?”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“I mean, you can’t get the same amount of happiness from drinking a cup of bubble that you do from finishing a hard piece of code, can you?”  
  
Sehun frowns. “Why can’t you? It’s happiness.”  
  
“But it’s not the same -- the same level. It’s not the same intensity. It’s like -- all of the anticipation and all of the frustration you feel when you’re coding, all of that builds up so that when your code finally compiles, you’re more satisfied than you would be if you just took some of my boba.”  
  
“Pig pleasures,” Sehun echoes.  
  
“Yeah.” Jongin nods. “I had a class about this once.”  
  
“If that’s the case, then tell me: why do I enjoy watching anime more than watching one of Baekhyun’s theater performances? It takes more mental effort to enjoy theater, but I like anime more.”  
  
Jongin snorts and goes, “John Stuart Mill is rolling in his grave.”  
  
Sehun grins, boba still stuck in his teeth.  
  
Jongin knocks their knees together but looks away shyly, a chunk of hair falling into his face.  
  
Briefly, Sehun wonders what it’d be like to kiss him. Not for anything that may follow afterward -- but just for the sake of kissing him. It’d be so easy -- so fucking easy. Sehun wonders what he’d taste like, whether his lips would be as dry as they look. Sehun wants to drag his tongue all over Jongin’s chiseled muscles and curved skin; God, Sehun wants.  
  
He licks his lips. His mouth feels curiously dry.  
  
“Ready?” Jongin says, glancing at his watch.  
  
“Yeah,” Sehun replies.  
  
They leave the warm, sweet bubble of the shop and head back out into the night. They walk past the park (Jongin drags Sehun over to the swings and they spend a few minutes pushing each other progressively harder until coming to a consensus that their drinks should not be spilled for the sake of friendly competition) and past the night market (Sehun sticks his nose into the air to drink in the smell of fried chicken and rice cake and fish skewers, but Jongin tugs him away).  
  
They talk. Talk about Sehun’s sister and her idiot boyfriend. About the dogs that they left at home. They argue a bit about whether man domesticated wolf or wolf domesticated man. Then Jongin remembers he has an assignment due online tomorrow so they have to jog back to campus.  
  
Maybe Jongin had some alcohol after all, because when they duck into an alley as a shortcut to get back to campus, Jongin catches Sehun’s wrist and drags him in for a furtive kiss, stolen in the dark.  
  
He kisses gentle but firm, the way he had kissed that girl back at the party.  
  
Sehun hates it. Sehun loves it.  
  
“What was that for,” Sehun pants when they finally break apart. The taste of chocolate pudding lingers on Sehun’s tongue and his mouth is warm.  
  
Jongin flashes a smile that’s disarmingly bright even in the dark of the alley. He shrugs self-assuredly, in that confident way of his. “I just wanted to.”  
  
Yep. Definitely drunk.  
  
They go back home. Jongin pulls out his laptop to work on his essay and Sehun messes around on his phone.  
  
There’s a groan and a rumble as the AC turns on again. The shitty thing about their dorms is that they have no control over the building temperatures, and as a result, when the AC is (not broken) on, it’s usually too cold.  
  
Two hours later, Jongin finishes his essay and shuts his laptop with a yawn. Instead of going to his own bunk, he shuffles to Sehun’s.  
  
It’s not, like, weird. They’ve shared beds plenty of times before and cuddled a lot for warmth before falling asleep. Except this time Jongin’s hair is rumpled and his grin is crooked and he’s wearing one of Sehun’s stupid, cheesy graphic t-shirts (this one says _Eat, Code, Code, Repeat_ with accompanying cartoon pictures) and they’re a goddamn _mess_ and Sehun wouldn’t change anything about it.  
  
Jongin crawls in, tucking his knees up behind Sehun’s. Their bodies curl around each other naturally. Familiar.  
  
“Good night, Sehun,” Jongin whispers.  
  
“Good night, Jongin.”  
  
  
  
Next morning, after waking up and washing up, they drag themselves out to their morning classes. Like zombies, they mindlessly go through the motions -- going to class, pretending to take notes, trying very very very hard not to fall asleep, going through the cafeteria line and scarfing down some lunch -- before coming back to the dorm and falling asleep again, a tangled mess of limbs and eyebags and stress.  
  
When Sehun wakes a second time, Jongin’s staring at Sehun.  
  
“You’re a fucking creep,” Sehun mumbles into his pillow, turning away.  
  
“You’re so good-looking,” Jongin says dreamily, like a fucking schoolgirl in a high school anime who’s pining over senpai.  
  
Sehun pretends to gag. Jongin compliments old ladies and puppies and cute cheerleaders and big guys on the football team; Sehun’s learned to take his comments with a grain of salt.  
  
“I’m serious,” Jongin protests. “You’re so pretty.”  
  
“Yeah thanks,” Sehun mumbles.  
  
Jongin runs his thumb over the swell of Sehun’s bottom lip before leaning in to kiss him.  
  
By now, Sehun’s eyes close of their own accord, his mouth moving almost instinctively to open up and let Jongin’s hot wet velvety tongue slip inside.  
  
If all the bubble tea shops in Seoul were to somehow disastrously close down, Sehun thinks that he could probably subsist on Jongin’s kisses for a solid three weeks before having a mental breakdown. It’s pretty much the highest compliment Sehun can pay him.  
  
Jongin hums into the space of their shared mouths, and swiftly swings his leg over Sehun’s waist to straddle him. Sehun arches up into his touch.  
  
In this position, there’s no way that Sehun can’t feel the big bulge pushing into his stomach, warm and pulsing and fat. He just moans and lets Jongin push up Sehun’s shirt, lick his way down the column of Sehun’s throat and the expanse of Sehun’s chest to latch his tongue on a nipple, sucking, swirling, teasing, gentle.  
  
Sehun makes a strangled noise and tries not to come in his pants.  
  
“Good?” Jongin rasps.  
  
“Yeah,” Sehun says nodding.  
  
Jongin grins and does the same to the other nipple.  
  
Sehun groans and then grabs him by the hair, yanking him up so they can kiss again because Sehun will never get tired of the way Jongin’s tongue flicks against his teeth, the way his skin tastes. They make out for what seems like hours, unhurried and gentle; time stretches out and snaps together, this liquid construct that only seems present in the way Sehun’s pulse accelerates by the minute.  
  
Jongin moans and breaks away, a string of spit stretching out between their mouths before breaking, and it should be disgusting, but then Jongin reaches down to palm his hard cock and Sehun’s mouth goes dry.  
  
“Do you want to fuck me,” Sehun blurts out.  
  
Jongin pulls away. He sits on the bed. He blinks.  
  
Sehun feels himself blush.  
  
“Like,” Jongin says slowly, “Dick in your ass.”  
  
“What other kind of fucking is there,” Sehun says a little irritably.  
  
“I don’t know.” Jongin looks embarrassed. “I’m not -- _experienced_ at this, I don’t -- I don’t know anything.”  
  
Not really, Sehun thinks, because they’ve been chipping away at their virginity for the better part of the school year, with all the blowjobs and thigh-fucking and frottage they’ve been participating in. But he reaches up for the bottle of lube and condom tucked on the side of his mattress anyway.  
  
Sehun puts both into Jongin’s hand before he can change his mind. “Come on,” Sehun says. “Get to work, Kim.”  
  
Jongin’s staring at Sehun unnervingly. “You’ll -- you’d let me,” he says in disbelief.  
  
“I won’t if you don’t do anything in the next five seconds,” Sehun retorts, pushing off his pants and underwear all in one go. Jongin hastily fumbles with the lube, popping it open and spilling it messily all over his fingers.  
  
“You remember how,” Sehun says, “From last time -- ”  
  
“Yeah,” Jongin’s pink tongue darts out to wet his lips. His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration and he slips a finger into Sehun.  
  
Sehun swallows a moan and tries not to buck upward, despite the ache for more.  
  
Jongin takes his sweet-ass time, turning his finger inquisitively, brushing his other hand against the flat plane of where Sehun’s groin turns into his cock, dragging three fingers over Sehun’s balls like Sehun’s body’s an experiment.  
  
One finger turns to two turns to three. Sehun’s sweaty, too sweaty now -- it’s too hot and his back is scratching uncomfortably on the sheets but he doesn’t care when Jongin’s pointer finger probes his prostate.  
  
Sehun yelps and bucks forward. Jongin grins from where he’s kneeling between Sehun’s splayed legs. “Gotcha,” he murmurs, and presses against lightly, flirting with the gland until Sehun’s cursing Jongin and rolling his hips upward and desperate for it.  
  
“‘M ready,” Sehun says, when the burn becomes familiar. He can feel Jongin’s gaze tracing over his body when Jongin finally removes fingers from his prostate. “God, just fuck me already.”  
  
“You’ve never -- never done this before,” Jongin says, not quite a question.  
  
Sehun refuses to let his cheeks color. “No,” he says.  
  
Jongin licks his lips. “You’ll let me know if I hurt you.” Another half question. His hands are ungainly, stuttering when they put on the condom.  
  
Sehun nods. His heart’s racing and his pulse feels too quick, too thin. Because holy fucking shit -- they’re about to have sex and Jongin’s going to take Sehun’s virginity and Sehun’s going to take Jongin’s virginity (what’s left of it, anyway) and Jongin’s going to put his fat fucking cock into Sehun’s asshole, inside his _body_ \-- holy fucking shit --  
  
Jongin’s gripping the pillow on either side of Sehun’s head, both of their faces turned down to see Jongin angling up. Jongin moves forward but it’s too slippery and his cock slips, skidding over Sehun’s thigh.  
  
“Sorry,” Jongin’s cheeks turn pink, reaching down to hold his cock, to guide it. His hand trembles faintly. “Let me try again,” he mumbles and Sehun would reassure him but he’s too busy trying to keep his breathing even.  
  
To steady himself, Jongin clutches the sheets with one hand and angles his cock with the other.  
  
Slick with lube, the head of Jongin’s dick feels wet and cool against Sehun’s rim.  
  
“Okay,” Jongin says breathlessly, tightly, nervously, “Okay, are you -- can I -- ”  
  
“Please,” Sehun says.  
  
The head of Jongin’s cock presses in, pushing out, and fuck, Jongin’s a lot thicker than he feels because Sehun’s body tenses almost immediately. It feels like an intrusion, like invasive and how the hell will it ever fit?  
  
“Sehun.” Jongin freezes.  
  
The head isn’t even completely in yet so Sehun grabs Jongin’s dick and pushes it in slowly. Jongin’s mouth falls open and he grabs onto the mattress, his eyes going glassy and unfocused.  
  
It burns. It hurts, stretching out Sehun’s muscles. As Sehun slides Jongin in, he forces himself to inhale slowly and focuses on the way Jongin’s breathing hitches instead of the blunt aching.  
  
“Does it -- do I feel good?” Sehun whispers hoarsely. He stares up at the ceiling and listens hard to Jongin’s answer to take his mind off the dull throbbing.  
  
“Fuck yeah,” Jongin rasps, “Sehun -- you feel so good. God, I can’t believe you _let_ me -- ” Jongin sounds wrecked, sounds like he’s in disbelief, and then he makes this choked noise when his dick slides in all the way and he bottoms out.  
  
Sehun feels uncomfortable, pinched and tight, but there’s this weird kind of pleasure mixing in with the twinges of pain, like this dark and deep kind of satisfaction that builds low and slow, from the very core of Sehun’s body.  
  
Jongin’s cock is heavy, thick. It’s familiar and unfamiliar all at once. Everything feels tight. Sehun can’t really make a sound.  
  
“Fuck,” Jongin breathes out. His voice -- his voice, which sounds raw and wet and _vulnerable_ \--  quivers. “Sehun. I -- is this okay? Does it hurt?”  
  
It hurts, but Sehun wants to chase those flickers of pleasure that are curling in his gut, so he just hums and spreads his legs wider in invitation.  
  
“Okay,” Jongin manages, his eyes never leaving Sehun’s. “I’m gonna -- ”  
  
He starts small, these miniscule little rocking motions that thrust without pulling out, like he’s building up his confidence. When Sehun doesn’t protest, Jongin starts rolling his hips, rocking in and out.  
  
“Is that good,” Jongin pants, “Are you -- ”  
  
“Slow,” Sehun croaks. “Slowly.”  
  
Jongin’s fingers find Sehun’s and he thrusts thrusts gently, his pelvis moving like water against water, these little waves that are slow and smooth.  
  
It’s -- weird. It’s a different kind of pleasure, like the slow yet unyielding stoking of the fire. Then Jongin pistons in a little stronger and hits Sehun’s prostate, and then Sehun moans, so loudly it surprises the both of them; and it feels so good, holy shit --  
  
Jongin picks up the pace, his mouth catching against the corner of Sehun’s lips, his panting growing more ragged as his body rolls in these languid, fluid motions, his hips snapping in and out and in and out.  
  
It shouldn’t be special. They’re dumb kids in college fucking around on a dorm bed that’s hardly big enough for one of them. It shouldn’t be like this, like breath-taking, heart-stopping, blood-boiling, stomach-churning; like something Sehun will absolutely, no doubtedly think about over and over again, wearing the memory down around the edges until it becomes soft and smooth like sea-glass around the edges. It shouldn’t be terrifying and thrilling and the best fucking thing ever all at once but it _is_ \--  
  
And it’s fantastic, despite the way Sehun’s sweat keeps sticking his skin to the sheets in a gross kind of way; despite the fact that their mouths taste like cheap cafeteria coffee and the stir fried noodles that were for lunch today; despite the fact that Jongin’s thrusts are a bit uneven; despite the fact that his grip slips once or twice and he has to readjust. Because --  
  
Because: Sehun rakes his nails down Jongin’s scalp and weaves his fingers into Jongin’s soft hair; because there’s this delicious, wonderful friction that curls his toes and tightens the muscles in his stomach; because the sex is so fucking good; because Jongin keeps mumbling about how Sehun’s so good, how “you’re so fucking tight, Sehun, Jesus,” and babbling “thank you” like Sehun’s ass is a divine gift from the heavens delivered to make Jongin come in the best way possible.  
  
Unable to control himself, Sehun jerks up to try and meet Jongin’s thrusts. It’s off-kilter the first two times, but then their rhythms line up and their hips snap together particularly rough.  
  
Jongin’s breath catches at the same time that Sehun chokes out a whimper.  
  
Jongin does it again, fucking in hard and brutal when Sehun thrusts up. He does it again, and again, over and over until they’re panting heavily, scrabbling, clutching, clawing desperately at the sheets to try and hold on and ride this wave of frantic, needy pleasure.  
  
“Yeah,” Jongin grunts, “Yeah, fuck yeah, Sehun, God, come on, I need -- ”  
  
Pleasure is a hook that reaches down Sehun’s throat and snags a moan out of his belly, yanking the sound from his gut, ripping it out of his mouth and the noise is so loud Sehun vaguely worries that their neighbors will hear.  
  
Jongin reaches down to fumble with Sehun’s cock, his grip too slick and too tight but somehow just right; Sehun grabs on as well and jerks roughly, desperately.  
  
“Come on,” Jongin babbles, and he sounds just as delirious as Sehun feels, “Fuck, yeah, come on -- ”  
  
Sehun cries out as his gut twists, and he comes all over his fist, spilling onto his chest and shirt.  
  
Jongin’s thrusts grow out of control, sloppy and rushed, just rutting mindlessly until his movements finally stutter and he slumps forward, spurting into Sehun.  
  
The following absence of moans and groans makes their breathing seem so much loudly.  
  
“Oh my God,” Sehun croaks finally, breaking the silence.  
  
Jongin grimaces as his cock slips out, dribbling come and lube and slick onto the sheets. He delicately takes off the condom and shoots it across the room -- which is absolutely disgusting, by the way, but Sehun can’t bring himself to care -- and lands it perfectly into the trash can. Figures.  
  
“Was that okay,” Jongin peers at Sehun.  
  
“Yeah.” Sehun nods emphatically. “Definitely more than okay.”  
  
“Okay,” Jongin murmurs and he leans in to kiss again.  
  
They end up snuggled together like puppies, skipping their next class in favor of staying in bed to sleep off the high. Sehun couldn’t ask for anything more.  
  
  
  
But sometimes, Jongin still works in mysterious ways. Every time Sehun thinks he understands, he doesn’t.  
  
For example, one night, Sehun’s waiting outside of the gym for Jongin to finish practice. A stream of athletes comes out, sweaty and tired. Sehun’s craning his neck and trying to find one specifically.  
  
Some asshole comes up to Sehun and goes, “Hey pretty girl, where’s your skirt?”  
  
They don’t go to a big school, so Sehun figured word would get around. “Fuck off,” Sehun says.  
  
The jock goes, “You feeling mouthy tonight, baby? I can think of some other things that mouth can do -- ” and Sehun turns around to retort sharply but Jongin’s there, fresh from practice, sweaty and stinky and generally gross but more importantly, he looks absolutely livid. After his basketball gear hits the ground with an audible thump, Jongin pulls his arm back and socks the guy in the face.  
  
The asshole staggers back with a pained cry.  
  
Jongin spits viciously, “Don’t you fucking talk like that ever again.”  
  
“I think you broke his nose,” Sehun says, trying not to sound impressed.  
  
“He’s lucky I didn’t smash his entire goddamn face in, I’m gonna -- ”  
  
“And we’re leaving,” Sehun says, grabbing Jongin and dragging him away before any further damage can be done.  
  
“Did you hear what he said,” Jongin says incredulously.  
  
“Yeah, I was there,” Sehun says dryly.  
  
“I can’t believe -- ”  
  
Sehun interrupts, “Okay, well, the world is full of idiots. And as noble and chivalrous it is for you to be protecting my honor and everything, I’d rather you not lose your basketball scholarship, so try not to sock anyone in the face.”  
  
Jongin mutters something rude under his breath and sulks for the rest of the evening. Sehun doesn’t get why.  
  
Just like how Sehun doesn’t get the following:  
  
A few days later, they’re out in a local park on a Sunday afternoon. Luhan, Minseok, and Jongin are playing a casual game of soccer in the grass and Sehun’s under the shade of a tree, studying with Chanyeol and Baekhyun. Sunlight pours down on them and birds chirp in the breeze. It’s a beautiful day.  
  
Sehun stands to stretch just as Jongin dribbles the ball over.  
  
“Hey,” Jongin greets them, but the other two are immersed in their textbooks, so Sehun’s the only one who replies, “Hi.”  
  
Sehun doesn’t expect anything at all, so his eyes are still open and widening in shock when Jongin leans over and kisses Sehun on the mouth, pressing their lips together for a solid few seconds before pulling back and --  
  
And that -- that isn’t right. Because best friends with benefits don’t kiss in public in front of all their friends, and they certainly don’t smile softly, sweetly, like that but Sehun’s still reeling from the kiss so he just smiles back automatically when Jongin waves and runs back to the game.  
  
“You’re fucking whipped,” Baekhyun snorts and Sehun doesn’t even bother to correct him.  
  
  
  
Their first break comes a little while later. It’s only a few days off, but everyone’s itching to get off campus. Sehun’s dad is on a business trip out of the country and his mom and sister are down in Busan, so Jongin invites him over and Sehun shrugs and says yes.  
  
It’s nice to catch up with Jongin’s parents again. He says hi to Monggu and they talk about Vivi for a bit. They have dinner together: Jongin and Sehun and Jongin’s mom and Jongin’s dad. It’s nice, comfortable.  
  
“So,” Jongin whispers that night, when they’re under the sheets on Jongin’s childhood bed. “We went through the layers.”  
  
“What?  
  
“We went through the layers.” He kisses Sehun’s cheek chastely. “Base layer, the physical layer -- wires and cords and me and you.”  
  
He kisses Sehun’s nose. “The next layer, friends. The bonfire. The basketball parties.”  
  
He kisses Sehun’s mouth. “The next layer. Family. Your sister. My parents.”  
  
“What the fuck,” Sehun says hysterically. “What the fuck?”  
  
Jongin just tilts his head and pouts confusedly.  
  
Sehun fights to keep his voice down, “You know that analogy -- I was talking about partners. Like significant others.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jongin says, confused.  
  
“What -- what does that make us?”  
  
“Boyfriends?” Jongin asks. He stares at Sehun. “What did you think we were?”  
  
“Oh,” Sehun says and suddenly he feels like an absolute idiot. “Oh.”  
  
Jongin looks disturbed. “Sometimes, I wonder about you.”  
  
Sehun just feels so happy he kisses Jongin so hard it hurts.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
(Before:  
  
Sehun thought that Jongin thought that they weren’t anything, that they were just friends with benefits. The benefits including physical ones and experimental ones.  
  
Apparently, Jongin didn’t think that.  
  
That stereotype about dumb jocks? Absolutely not true. Sehun’s the one who is a complete idiot.)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Basketball games are always crowded. Sehun and Baekhyun and a few of the other drama kids managed to snag seats in the front, thanks to Yifan.  
  
Sehun’s chatting with Jongdae when Jongin jogs up, basketball tucked under his arm.  
  
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready,” Sehun asks, but he’s already smiling down at Jongin.  
  
“Had to get a kiss for good luck,” Jongin says and leans up to catch Sehun’s mouth in his.  
  
Luhan makes a barfing noise and Baekhyun cheers them on.  
  
“If you win,” Sehun murmurs breathlessly, “Then I’ll wear my skirt for you to celebrate tonight.”  
  
“Oh I will,” Jongin winks. “You should get a matching pair of panties to go along with your skirt, because you’ll be wearing it pretty often this season.”  
  
Sehun smirks. “Win this game first and we’ll see.” He claps Jongin on the shoulder. “Go get them, Kim.”  
  
Jongin’s returning smile is disarmingly bright. He waves to the rest of the guys and jogs off.  
  
Minseok sighs happily. “I’m so glad you two sorted your shit out.”  
  
“Yeah,” Sehun says as he watches the game start. “Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> 11/2/18: Edited (lightly) and slightly expanded.


End file.
